


Never Let You Go

by gestaltrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fairies, First Time, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestaltrose/pseuds/gestaltrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are in the Pacific Northwest on a hunt. Dean has plans and gets Sam some tattoos. That's when things start to go wrong. Sam is seeing things that Dean can't and feeling things that he doesn't want to think about. Then Dean disappears and Sam has to find him. It just gets weird from there. There are tattoos, and people only Sam can see, trouble, and sex. There are Fae involved and the World Tree. Can Sam and Dean save the world and themselves at the same time? Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let You Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj community spn_j2_bigbang in '08. My artist was lj user __hibiscus. If you look in her tags, she has a tag spn_j2_bigbang. Mine is among there. She is fantastic and if you like spn or j2 art you should check her out.

“Dude,” Sam watched as Dean pushed open the door to the tattoo parlor, “another tattoo?”

Dean held the door for Sam. “Yeah, but not for me.”

That got Sam’s attention and he stopped in the entryway, nearly blinded by coming in from the sunshine. Turning, he looked at his brother, backlit against the brightness. “What do you mean?”

Walking past his brother, Dean went over to the counter. The tattoo artist and Dean seemed to have a conversation in a foreign language, talking about grinding and what kind of irons the guy used. Every word out of Dean’s mouth had Sam panicking a bit more.

After seeing some of Sean’s work, that was the guy’s name, Dean sketched out a design. After a short discussion about payment, they settled on a price and Dean asked Sam over.

“This you can get today.” The tone of Dean’s voice said that this wasn’t negotiable no matter what Sam wanted. What Sam wanted was to turn around and leave. The last tattoo he had had locked the demon, the one they called Meg, into him. He lifted his arm and showed Dean the scar.

“What we get done today should prevent that from happening. The other one. Well, it’ll make it so they can’t stay even if they get in.”

Sam finally leaned over and looked at the drawing that Dean had done. “The triple goddess?” It was a picture of three crescents, intertwined.

Dean looked down at the picture. “Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’s also the sign of Lemus, a healing saint that was rumored to see the future.”

Eyes widening, Sam glanced down at the picture and back up into Dean’s green eyes. “Are you insane?”

Pulling Sam over near the door, Dean quickly whispered to him. “I spoke with Missouri. She says it’ll help you control it.”

“Missouri knows I’m getting a tattoo?”

Dean nodded. “She’s got something like it. Hers has to do with the sight, yours with healing. Trust me, Sam. Please.” Dean’s eyes flicked from Sam back to the proprietor, Sean.

“I don’t work on anyone who doesn’t want it.” Sean held out Dean’s money and Sam saw just how much he had handed the man.

“Please, Sam.” Sam watched as Dean pleaded and that’s what convinced him how important it was.

“I’ll do it, sir.” Sam looked at Sean. “It’s just he sprung this on me and it took me a minute.” Then it occurred to him that the man might not do it if he thought that Sam hadn’t thought it through. “What I mean is, I want a tattoo. I have for a while. He just decided to surprise me with the design. I do want it.”

“Where, then?” The man stopped just short of being rude.

Sam glanced at Dean and Dean spoke up, “Middle of his lower back.”

The man looked dismissively at Sam. “This tenderfoot? He’ll probably be a wrestler, he looks the type.”

Dean stood up for his brother. “Man, you don’t know him. You can kick it into third and he’ll handle it.” At least Sam assumed from his tone of voice that Dean was defending him.

The man snorted in disbelief but he went to get his tools ready.

“My back, Dean?”

“Missouri said it had to do with energy and you would understand. I didn’t.” Dean looked at him like he expected Sam to get it.

Then, Sam did understand. A protective tattoo at the base of his spine would help protect his psychic energy and perhaps allow him to focus some of the energy better.

One thing Sam didn’t understand was why Dean had given the man his entire stash of cash. So, he asked.

“You don’t negotiate for protection,” Dean said just looking at his brother.

Nodding, Sam walked into the back of the shop and over to a chair that Sean was standing by and took his shirt off.

“Unbutton those pants and slide them down a bit,” Sean directed him.

Sam did as he was asked; now his entire back was exposed. Scars from hunting crisscrossed it and Sam watched as Dean looked away. Sam took a deep breath and relaxed, looking at the pictures on the wall of Sean’s work.

The man seated himself behind Sam on his chair and, picking up his tattoo gun, he bent and started working on the outline. The sound of the thing went through Sam’s body more than the feeling of the needle penetrating his skin did.

Taking some deep breaths helped Sam disassociate from what pain he did feel, allowing him to listen to the artist.

“Most men don’t get tats here. It’s too painful. Women, now women, their nerves are different and they handle pain differently. While a man will internalize the pain, most women just feel it and let it go. At least that’s what I’ve noticed.” Sean’s voice was matter of fact. It gave Sam something to think about other than the pain and the noise that was setting him on edge. Pain that was intense but no harder to handle than most of the other things he had dealt with.

“Sam?”

Opening his eyes, Sam looked up at his brother.

Dean smirked at him. “You’re such a girl.”

“Fuck off, Dean.” Sam closed his eyes again and rested his head on his folded arms.

Sean finished with the outline and he sat back and rested for a moment. “You’re doing great, Sam. Can I ask you guys a question?” Sam could almost feel his gaze on the tattoo on his back.

Dean and Sam both nodded.

“Why do you need a tattoo for protection?”

“Who said it was for protection?” Sam asked and twisted slightly with a wince to glance at Sean.

“I do this kind of thing for hunters. Not often, but I do them. You boys, well you’ve got that look about you. Though,” Sean looked thoughtful, “you both look like you’re the ones being hunted.”

When they didn’t respond he shrugged and went back to work. Finishing, he put a lotion of some sort on the tattoo and then covered it with a bandage.

Handing Sam a sheet with the proper care of his new tattoo, he asked Dean about the other tattoo that he wanted.

“Have you ever heard of Metatron’s Cube?”

“Hell, yeah. A two dimensional representation of four dimensions. Great for protection from. . .” Sean looked at them both, “demons?”

Sam’s eyes widened. Acknowledging that the man was correct with a slight nod, he jumped when the man exclaimed.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Sean asked.

Sam wondered for a moment just how that one was supposed to work? Just come in and ask for a demon protection? Yeah, like that wouldn’t get them sent to the loony bin if they asked the wrong person.

The look Dean gave the man must have said the same thing because Sean just said, “I know, forget I asked.”

“How can you make a tattoo of a four dimensional object?” Sam really wanted to know.

Sean got out a piece of paper and started drawing circles and squares and triangles. It came together quickly. “This is just a partial, the fourth dimension adds so many lines to make it mostly unreadable. But here, see. Cube, tetrahedron, octahedron, dodecahedron, and icosahedron, all Platonic solid--they’re all there.” He pointed to the drawing.

His words made Sam long, for one brief moment, to be back in college. Just learning, not worried about anything, not hunting anything, and nothing hunting him.

Sean continued. “This one,” he tapped the drawing. “It was known to the ancients to be protection from evil, but they didn’t know why. It’s holy, that is. Did you want this?” He showed the picture to Sam and Dean.

Dean looked it over. He looked pleased, like he had had a good feeling about this place. He had heard about it from a couple of hunters in Colorado, Sam knew. Dean had found something for them to hunt near Snohomish, Washington. He and Sam had stopped a haunting up in Bellingham, and now Sam was going to be protected. Dean looked very self-satisfied. “I’ve got a copy,” he dug in his pockets, “here.” He showed the drawing to Sean.

“This is good. You measure it?” Sean examined the paper closely.

“Every line. Can you make it that size? I’ve got the dimensions just right.”

Sam was beginning to feel like he was nothing more than a blank canvas, looking at the drawing that Dean handed the man. Knowing that Dean had been measuring and muttering to himself for days, Sam wanted to see the end result. He shot a look of respect at Dean. “This is what you’ve been working on?”

Dean nodded, hesitantly. It was as if he wondered if Sam was going to tell him no.

“Where does it need to go?”

“Heart,” Sean answered, looking up from the drawing.

Both Dean and Sam gave him a look.

“Over the heart would give the most protection, just like the mark of Lemus on your back will help with clarity of thought and unlock your natural healing abilities, if you have any.”

Nothing Sean said could surprise him anymore. Sam had already decided. “When?”

“Colors? Like this?” He picked up the drawing that Dean had done.

“Exactly like that,” Dean said and Sam heard the unspoken ‘if you can’t you’d better say it now’ that Dean so expertly didn’t say.

“It’ll take a couple days to complete. This is pretty detailed. Let’s say, a week to get all my inks in. I’ll have to order a few,” Sean said.

Sam looked at Dean who still seemed worried that he might say no. “A week will be fine.”

“Come after hours, the fewer people who know the better.”

The boys nodded and Sam got up, buttoning his pants, careful not to pull them against his back. Slipping his t-shirt on, he walked to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sean trying to give some of the money back.

“. . . didn’t know it was for protection.” He caught part of the conversation.

Dean leaned in and whispered something to Sean and he reluctantly nodded. Putting the money away, he turned to look at Sam.

“Take care of that, now.” He motioned to Sam’s back. “It’ll help with whatever is chasing you or whatever you’re chasing. See you back in a week.”

Dean ushered Sam out the door and into the Impala.

“You don’t bargain for protection.” Dean answered Sam’s unspoken question.

Fine, maybe he had been ready to ask why Dean hadn’t taken any of the cash back, but Dean didn’t need to sound so damn condescending.

Sam turned and looked out the window as they drove back to the motel that they were staying at. Watching the streetlights as they approached them, lighting the road then flowing over the car, glinting off of Dean’s ring and flashing over Sam’s legs before the Impala moved on, leaving them in darkness until they came to the next light. Sam tried not to see it as some kind of metaphor for his life. Lights in the darkness and them never spending enough time in the light to really see each other. Maybe because Sam was afraid of what Dean would think if he really knew Sam, but Sam was happy with the darkness that came after the light because it hid him. They pulled into the parking lot of the motel and, opening the door, Sam started to get out when suddenly he was hit with a vision, his first big one since Dean had killed old yellow eyes in South Dakota.

 _“Sam,” Dean’s voice sounded urgent, desperate._

 _“Dean. I’m here, Dean.”_

 _“Sam,” Dean said again. “Where are you? It’s so dark.”_

 _“Dean,” Sam repeated. “I’m right here.”_

 _“They took me and I couldn’t stop them. Sam, if you can hear me, they’re dangerous. So what’s new? There are a lot of them. Damn, I didn’t think they were real. Sam, do you hear me? They’re real.”_

 _“What are real, Dean? What took you? Where are you?”_

 _“I think they’re . . .”_

Being doused with cold water was not the best way to come out of a vision, but it was effective. “Dean, why the fuck did you do that?”

“You want to sleep on the ground, fine with me.” Dean got up from where he was kneeling on the asphalt beside Sam and walked toward their room, ice bucket swinging in his hand.

“Wait.” Sam scrambled to his feet. When he felt the world spinning, suddenly Dean was there, hand at his back. His racing heart had started to slow down until Dean touched him. Sam wished he could send his fucked up brain to hell because that’s what it did to him . . . made his life hell.

Loving and loathing Dean’s arm around him, Sam let him lead him towards the door. When had this happened? When had his brain decided that Dean was what it wanted?

“Slow down, tiger,” Dean said as he helped Sam into the room, his gentle treatment of Sam contradicting his actions of a few moments before. “Sorry, Sammy, but you wouldn’t wake up.” The unspoken words were ‘I was scared.’

******

“Vision?” Dean asked after he got Sam settled in the room.

Nodding, Sam avoided meeting Dean’s eyes by lying back on his bed and shutting his. Knowing that Dean was waiting for more, Sam turned and faced away from the dinette where Dean was sitting. Opening his eyes, he looked at the thinning yellow curtains that covered the window, carefully not looking at the bed that was between him and the window while he listened to his brother get up, fix some supper and then come around to stand in front of him.

Sam glanced up and met his eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

“Damn it, Sammy, I want . . . no I need . . .” Dean sat down on the bed across from Sam. “Shit, I don’t know.” Dean watched as Sam ran a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in a tangle he jerked his hand free. Sitting and staring at Sam, Dean leaned over, reached out and brushed back a piece of hair that had fallen over Sam’s face and tucked it behind his ear.

Sam held perfectly still. Dean was touching him again. It was something he craved yet loathed at the same time, all the damn time. Wanting to push his face into Dean’s hand and just smell it, taste it, and then also wanting to jerk out of his brother’s reach, so as not to contaminate him. Holding still, because his body and his brain couldn’t come to a conclusion as to what he should do. He found himself shaking.

“What?” Dean had felt his tell-tale shivers.

“Cold,” Sam said the first thing that came to mind. Dean reached behind him, his body so close to Sam’s that Sam could smell the scent that made Dean Dean. He couldn’t stop himself from taking a deep breath. That, the noise he made when he sniffed, made Dean look down. Blushing, Sam turned his head and closed his eyes again.

Dean pulled the blankets that he had been reaching for over Sam and sat back down across from him. “Sam.”

“Don’t.”

“But what if you saw something important? We need to talk about this.”

Groaning, Sam lifted his head. “Dean, my head hurts, you dumped ice water on me, and can’t you just let me get some sleep?” Sam could use the guilt card as well as Dean could, when he wanted to.

“Fine, but you should get out of those clothes, you’re getting the bed all wet.” Dean stood up and walked away.

Sam sat up. A little too quickly and the room seemed to grow dark for a moment, then he blinked, twice. That was better. “If you wouldn’t dump ice water on me, I wouldn’t need to change,” he muttered more to himself than his brother.

“Yeah, well if you weren’t such a girl, passing out in the parking lot for Christ’s sake, I wouldn’t have had to do it.” Dean’s voice butted into his thoughts as he was gathering his underwear and night pants.

“Bullshit.” And with that Sam stepped into the bathroom and firmly shut the door. No matter what Dean claimed later, he didn’t slam it.

Sam slid into the shower; it was as hot as he could make it. He felt, no he needed, to try to scour clean. The water was so hot that it was almost a punishment. Always after something that made him think of Dean in that way, he had to try to cleanse himself . . .if only he could rinse his brain out. Wanting to smell Dean, touch Dean, there had to be something wrong with him.

Then Sam turned and he couldn’t hold back a cry of pain. The damn tattoo. Fuck. He quickly shut the water off and was stepping out of the shower when Dean came in. Sam had his hand in the small of his back covering a now wet bandage. Dean didn’t even seem to see that Sam was naked; he moved over to check out Sam’s back. Sam, however, was completely aware of Dean. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Dean.”

“Dude, what were you trying to do? Boil yourself?” Dean’s cool fingers touched Sam’s red arms.

“Dean.” Sam was trying to keep control of his emotions and Dean touching him wasn’t helping. Oh damn, he could feel his cock stirring in interest as Dean touched his back.

“We’ll need to redo this.”

“Fine,” Sam’s voice was strained. “Just get out and let me get dressed.”

“Sure, whatever.” Dean closed the door behind him and Sam had never been happier that his older brother could be very self-absorbed.

Toweling himself dry in record time, Sam ignored his semi-hard cock and told it to behave. Slipping into his briefs, he adjusted himself in them and then got his pajama bottoms on. Adjusting himself one last time and after a quick look in the mirror, trying to discover if what he felt showed, he shrugged and opened the door.

Dean, trying to be helpful Sam was sure, had cranked the heat up.

“Fuck, I’m not dying.” Sam walked over and shut the heat off. Dean had arranged himself on Sam’s bed after making it up. All over the ugly large floral print he had bandages, antiseptic, and antibiotic cream spread out.

“Let me look at that.” Dean directed him to the bed.

“Well. If you hadn’t made me get it at the base of my spine, I could’ve taken care of it.”

“No doubt.” Dean smirked at him.

Sam gave up. This wasn’t an argument he even wanted to have, much less win. Pulling his pajamas down so that the whole bandage was exposed, he lay down on the bed.

Dean talked to himself, like he always did when he was patching up Sam. Sam did the same thing when he patched up Dean and he wondered if they picked it up from Dad or if it was one of Dean’s little idiosyncrasies that Sam picked up.

“What were you thinking? You could’ve passed out again. Don’t need to hit your head again. Damn Missouri and her stupid ideas. Why does it always have to be you, Sammy?” The very last was whispered and Sam suspected that he wasn’t supposed to have heard it.

Dean’s hands were gentle as they removed the wet bandage and then smoothed on a layer of ointment. Sam sighed and Dean’s hands stilled for a moment before continuing. Thorough but efficient, Dean didn’t waste any time before bandaging him up again.

“There you go. I’ll change it again in the morning.” Dean smacked him on the ass as he stood up, gathering his materials. Sam barely managed not to jump out of his skin.

Grunting a response, Sam pulled the covers back and crawled into bed, groaning as he put his head down in a cold wet spot.

Dean snorted. “Told ya, dude. You got your bed wet.”

Rising from the bed like a vengeful spirit, Sam loomed over his brother. “Fine then, I’ll take yours.”

“Damn it, Sammy, you always hog the covers.” Dean was whining.

“If you’d like, there’s the couch.” Sam pointed to the ratty thing in the corner that they hadn’t even dared to set their bags on, let alone sit on.

“Fine,” Dean spoke sharply after glancing at the offending sofa. “But I get to hit you if you snore.”

“Same goes for me.”

Dean nodded and Sam slid into the bed. He knew this was a bad idea, but Dean . . . and the wet bed . . . well, he guessed he was just meant to live in hell. Locking the doors and checking the salt lines, Dean crawled in afterwards, pushing Sam gently over. He wanted to be by the wall and Dean could be such a baby about it when he had to sleep.

Sam didn’t get much rest that night. Every time he touched Dean he woke up, paranoid that he would do something he would regret, like trail his fingers up Dean’s back. When he finally fell into a fitful sleep, he woke up as Dean threw a leg over his and an arm over his chest.

“Go to sleep, Sammy.”

Like he was five or something. Sam huffed and tried to move but Dean only tightened his grip and Sam forced himself to relax. Visualization and breathing exercises that he had picked up from Jess, it still hurt to think about how he had failed her, helped him to finally get to sleep.

The sun peeking through the thin curtains is what woke Sam up and waking up was a wonderful, horrible thing. Sam lay on his side with Dean at his back. Dean was pressed up against his back so close that Sam could feel his brother’s breath against his neck, fluttering the little hairs there, sending shivers down his spine. Dean’s arm was wrapped around his waist and his morning wood was pressed into the crack of Sam’s ass. It took all Sam had not to press into him.

Wanting to stay there forever with Dean holding him and also wanting to move, to get away from Dean before he found out just how perverted his little brother was, Sam couldn’t make up his mind. Finally, Dean made it up for him.

Sam felt Dean’s cock begin to rub up and down his underwear-covered ass and Sam’s breath hitched.

Dean stilled then groaned. “I hate morning wood. Damn, it’s hard enough to hit the toilet in the morning without a hard on,” he made light of the situation. Sam now had his own ‘morning wood’ to deal with, but it wasn’t just his body’s first thing in the morning reaction to breathing, it was its reaction to waking this close to Dean.

Watching his brother head to the bathroom, Sam did have to agree with him, peeing with a hard on was an exercise in acrobatics. Hell, most of the time, Sam just got in the shower and let everything take care of itself in there.

Running his fingers across his hard cock, he knew he was going to jack off in the shower. Letting his hand drop, Sam lay there and watched the bathroom door. Dean apparently had the same shower idea as Sam, when he came out he was wrapped in a towel and nothing else. Sam watched him surreptitiously, his eyes following familiar paths of scars, some he had stitched up.

Dean walked over to the end of the bed and grabbed his duffle. He was just about to drop his towel, oblivious to Sam’s issues, and Sam got up and headed for the bathroom and Dean snorted.

Sam stopped and looked at his brother, raising an eyebrow in question.

Grinning, Dean looked down at the tent in Sam’s underwear and snorted again.

“You know that makes you sound like a pig.” Sam was trying not to blush and had the feeling he was failing miserably.

“Whatever. You’d better go take care of that before you break something.” Dean got a wicked look in his eye and Sam headed for the bathroom, not wanting to hear whatever thing that had just popped into Dean’s head. “I could always show you . . .” Sam shut the door and leaned his forehead against it.

He was so screwed. Turning on the shower, this time he remembered his tattoo and didn’t get it wet, at least not on purpose. He stood there with water falling on him until something relaxed enough and he pissed all over the wall of the shower. Soaping up, he washed his front and then his slick, soapy hand wrapped around his cock.

Trying to think about something other than Dean proved fruitless and he came gasping his brother’s name.

Getting the towel on, he opened the door, oddly filled with relief when he saw the room was empty. Slipping into his pants, Sam saw Dean had made the bed and laid out the stuff to put on his tattoo. Deciding that he would put his shirt on later, Sam turned as Dean opened the door. He was carrying a box of doughnuts and had one in his hand, half eaten.

“You have got to try these.” He shoved the rest of the doughnut at Sam and for just a moment Sam thought he meant for him to take a bite, like they used to when he was little.

Sam took the rest of the doughnut from Dean and shoved it in his mouth.

“Henrys, you can’t go wrong with a name like that.” Dean set the box down on the table and grabbed another one, eating half with one bite.

Sam looked and saw that Dean had already eaten half of the box. “Dude.”

“What? I left you some.”

“Yeah but you’ll probably eat half of what’s left.”

Dean just grinned. Getting up, he went and washed his hands. Sam watched him, taking note of a new hole in his jeans, above his left knee. That damn spirit dog had nearly taken his leg off, Sam thought, remembering the hunt in Nevada.

Walking over to the bed, Dean patted it. Sam walked over and lay down on the bed. Grabbing a pillow and tucking it under his head, he took a deep breath and relaxed. Dean peeled the bandages off carefully, Sam could tell.

“Looking good,” Dean said as he smoothed on the ointment and Sam breathed through his nose and tried to think of something else. “Does it seem to be helping?”

“With what?”

Sam could picture Dean shrugging and he twisted to look at him and instantly regretted it. He wasn’t sure how a tattoo could hurt worse the day after getting it than the actual getting of it. Well, he did know; endorphins. They had flooded his body yesterday and now they had mostly left.

Dean was watching him and he pushed Sam’s shoulder back down to the pillow in his arms. “Idiot.” He smoothed on some kind of numbing lotion and Sam sighed with relief as the burning sensation slowly left. Then he became more and more aware of Dean’s hand burning on his shoulder.

“Helping with what?” Sam tried to pull his brain away from what Dean’s hands were doing to him and back to what Dean asked him about before. “Oh, you mean the visions?”

“Mmmm,” Dean made a noncommittal noise.

Sam went to shrug and thought better of it. “Dunno.”

Dean smacked his ass. “Get your shirt on, pretty boy. We’ve got a few days to kill and I found us a hunt; salt and burn.”

Sam had heard that before. “Promise?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean looked at Sam. “Grandpa didn’t want to leave. Here.” He tossed a paper beside Sam. “Page four, umm, second column ‘bout halfway down.”

Dean’s memory for things astounded Sam at times. Snagging another doughnut, Sam picked up the paper. Page four, second column, about halfway down, Sam started reading. It was the history of a house that local legend had as haunted. Grandpa, as Dean called him, was Mr. Carlyle. He had fallen off the roof and left behind a three year old and a pregnant wife. One of those spirits that laid low, it wasn’t until the youngest child, Dorothy, had left the house to her step-children that there had been any problems.

Apparently Mr. Carlyle wanted only blood relatives living in his house. Sam grabbed his bag and got out the laptop, thanking whomever that wireless was common here. Mr. Carlyle was buried in the Marshland Cemetery. Dean was right, salt and burn. Sam tried to be relieved and ignore the feeling that this would end up being more.

Looking up, Sam realized that Dean had eaten the rest of the doughnuts. “Dude.”

“What?” Dean asked with his mouth full.

“Nothing,” Sam laughed. “We need to go and check it out.”

Dean nodded. “Already ahead of you, Sparky.” He stood and brushed the front of his shirt off. “Packed us some lunch.”

Sam stood, noticing that his back was hurting him and it felt as if there was a line of electricity between the base of his spine and his brain. It didn’t quite hurt but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. Sam was shifting in his seat on the way there and Dean gave him a look.

They got to the cemetery and started wandering; it was a hilly cemetery with graves tucked here and there. Searching carefully, because the last thing they wanted to do was miss it, they walked slowly. There were a couple other people there, Sam noticed, but they were always off at a distance. Then he forgot about them as they searched for Mr. Jack Carlyle’s grave. He and Dean separated, Sam heading down towards a small clump of trees. He nearly bumped into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She was dressed in a long gown that had Sam wondering if there was a renaissance faire nearby. Sam had trouble taking his eyes off of her. Her hair was dark, her eyes a silvery-green color that Sam had never seen before, and her dress matched her eyes perfectly. Wondering where Dean was, he glanced around, because he knew that he would want to see her. He tried not to panic when he realized he’d wandered farther from Dean than he thought. His mouth dried as the woman approached him.

She spoke to him with an accent that he couldn’t place. “Wilt thou treat with us?”

Sam glanced around to see if there was someone else that she could be talking to.

“What?”

“Wilt thou treat with us?”

Sam was very confused. “No.” She must be a spirit. One of the things that Sam had learned young was that you didn’t just agree with spirits, you might end up on the bad end of a possession.

Anger flashed in her eyes for a moment then Sam heard Dean. It was then he realized that as long as he was talking with that woman there had been no noise; not the cars on the road, or the birds, or his brother. He turned back and she was gone. Fuck, just what they needed, another spirit.

“What?” he asked as he saw Dean’s expression. His brother was approaching him slowly.

“You okay, Sammy?”

Sam described what had just happened and Dean looked around. “I didn’t see anyone.” Dean looked closely at Sam. “Was it a vision?”

“Didn’t feel like one,” Sam said as he shook his head.

“We need to find that grave.” Giving Sam a worried look, Dean seemed to give up for the moment trying to figure out what was going on with Sam.

“I just found it.” Sam pointed down at Mr. Carlyle’s grave.

Dean took note of where it was, so they could find it in the dark. For once a little luck was on their side and the grave was away from the road and semi-hidden in the trees so no one should be calling the cops because they saw a fire or, worse, them digging.

“Weird,” Sam said. “So you didn’t see anyone?”

Dean shook his head. “Now come on, lunch.”

Dean hadn’t seen anything. What the hell was going on? Maybe a phone call to Missouri wouldn’t be out of place. Sam had this weird feeling that maybe he wouldn’t have seen his new ‘friend’ if he hadn’t got that tattoo.

Deciding that Sam needed his bandages changed and that they both needed a nap before the work that night, they headed back to the motel, eating in the car. The drive back to the motel was quick and when they got there, Sam’s bed was dry. The first thing he felt when he found that out was regret, followed quickly by shame. Why should he want to have to sleep with Dean? He told his mind to just shut the fuck up as Dean took care of his tattoo and then Sam slept, in his own bed.

Salt and burn, no freaky beautiful spirits, the job was as easy as pie. Dean had been right for once. They headed back to the cemetery around three in the morning, Sam was wide awake but Dean looked ready to crash after they finished digging up Mr. Carlyle. Waiting until the whole thing was ashes, Sam filled in the grave, trying to make it as inconspicuous as possible. Heading back, Sam drove and Dean leaned his head against the window and fell asleep in the fifteen minutes it took to get back to the motel.

Sam had woken up from his nap earlier in the day to find Dean doing research on the laptop. At least that’s what Sam assumed. He hadn’t been jacking off so he really doubted he’d been looking at porn.

“You sleep?”

Dean jumped, which was quite unlike him. Closing whatever windows he’d had open, he snapped the laptop closed. “What? No, I didn’t.” Dean had sounded defensive and Sam hadn’t pushed it.

So what that meant was that Sam was now wide awake at five in the morning and Dean was dead to the world. Getting his brother out of his jeans and into his bed, Sam sat down at the table with the laptop and did a little research of his own.

Earlier, Sam had tried to explain what had happened and Dean had believed him. Kind of, it seemed. Looking into the search history, Sam saw that Dean had looked up ‘will you treat with me’ and got dragged into some medieval history. He had given that up within a few links. Then he had looked up beautiful people who disappear and had clicked on links about, of all things, fairies. Sam looked at the bed where he could make out the form of his brother under the covers.

Shaking his head, Sam bent back over the laptop. A phone call to Missouri was definitely on his list of things to do.

Having nightmares Sam was half way used to, but having them so badly that they kept both he and Dean awake was something new. After Sam had finally given up on the search for clues and went to bed, he had woken them both up a few hours later, yelling something about Dean in terror. He couldn’t remember what it was about, just that he was looking for Dean and couldn’t find him. By the next night Sam wanted nothing more than to roll back into his brother’s bed, but Dean didn’t offer and even though Sam knew that it would keep the nightmares away, he wasn’t going to beg to sleep with his brother like some five year old.

Two days later Sam was walking out to the car with Dean right behind him when he noticed the same quietness that had happened with the woman in the graveyard. This time there was no graveyard in sight. He was scared to turn to look at Dean, because what if he wasn’t there? Sam wasn’t ready to live without Dean. Instead, Sam watched a man walk up to him in the same kind of odd clothes as the woman had, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence.

When he was close, Sam could tell he was just as beautiful as the woman. He also had dark hair and the same silvery-green eyes. They must be siblings, Sam figured.

“Sir,” the man spoke to Sam. “Wilt thou treat with us?”

If Sam hadn’t been so freaked out he probably would have rolled his eyes. “I told your friend no.”

The man smiled at Sam and it took his breath away. How could even a spirit be so beautiful? “You have yet to answer me.”

Sam wanted to hear Dean again, breathing, walking behind him, and he was afraid that if he said yes then he wouldn’t. That made the decision easy. “No.”

There was no anger, just something like sadness or regret in the man’s eyes and then the world started working again and the man was gone.

Sam frantically swung around to find Dean was right behind him. Dean ran into him as Sam put his hands up to stop him. Then it was as if the world had stopped again. Dean’s face was inches from his, their breath mingling between them. Sam’s eyes flicked down to Dean’s mouth. Dean’s tongue came out and Sam couldn’t stop staring, his own tongue licking his lips.

Then the moment was gone and Dean was stepping back. “What was that?”

“You didn’t see this guy either?” Not that Sam had really expected Dean to see him but still, he’d been right here.

Dean shook his head, that concerned light coming back into his eyes. Sam turned and walked to the car, getting in and sitting shotgun, even though Dean had agreed to let him drive. But if Sam was seeing things, there might be more visions and the last thing Sam wanted was a vision while he was driving. Talk about a nightmare situation.

Sliding into the car, Dean gave him a look and held his hand out for the key. Dean understood why he needed to drive, at least Sam hoped he did. Sliding a Metallica tape into the player they headed for the next town to hit up the bars. They needed cash and hustling was a quick way to get some, even Sam had to admit it. They had learned young that if you were staying in one place for very long, scamming the locals wasn’t the best idea, but western Washington was so well populated that five miles down the road there was usually another town. That made finding a spot to hustle up some cash easier than where they had been in Nevada, the only town within fifty miles had only one bar. Not much scamming had taken place.

Sam sat in the Impala outside a brewery in Mukilteo with the laptop open. They were close enough to the ferry docks that he could see the ferries as they left and came in. It was a clear night and if he looked carefully he could see where the ferry docked on the other side of the straight, about two and a half miles away if he guessed right. People watching wasn’t one of his favorite things to do anymore but when he had been young, he had loved coming to places like this with his dad and Dean. He would sit in the car and watch people going about their lives. He would wonder if any of them had lost their mom like he had. If any of them thought about him or would if they saw him. After he had learned about what his dad hunted, he had wondered if anyone else he saw knew what was out there, and if they didn’t, what they would do if they did.

Shaking his head out of his reverie, he did some research on the tattoo he had got. Figuring out that he was seeing people that other people weren’t, he looked into the second sight, and religions of the goddess, specifically the triple goddess. Sighing, he finally gave up trying to figure this out by himself. Picking up the phone, he almost dialed Missouri, catching himself at the last minute because of the time difference. She would be in bed and unless Sam was dying, he wouldn’t wake up Missouri, not for a million dollars, thank you very much.

Clicking the laptop shut, he wondered if he should go in. He really didn’t feel like being social tonight and Dean was so good at it. Sam looked up just as Dean was thrown out of the bar. Picking himself up, he headed over to the Impala in his ‘I’m in a hurry but I’m not going to show it’ walk.

Dean got in and started the car up, pulling out of the parking lot. He didn’t talk until they were almost back to Snohomish. “Hustled them.” Apparently it was Dean’s turn to state the obvious.

“And?”

“I made it obvious at the end, so that a couple of the guys got angry and started swinging. In the confusion, I grabbed the pot.” Dean pulled out a roll of what looked like twenties and tens. He pushed it at Sam. “Count it.”

Fingering through the bills, Sam came to a total and looked up at Dean, a shocked look on his face. There was no way a bar like that could have had a grand to throw around. Dean grinned at him.

“That’s why I made it obvious; there was no way those guys were going to let me leave with that much, even if I won fair and square.”

Sam nodded and tucked some cash in a few places in the Impala, then he organized the rest and handed it back to Dean, who didn’t even look at it as he shoved it into his pocket. Sam wanted to talk about his tattoo. He debated it in his head the last bit of the drive and he found he couldn’t. Dean was so happy and if Sam brought up how he figured he could see ‘invisible’ people now it would just bring his brother down.

Dean was still grinning as he pulled into the motel parking lot. Parking in front of their room, Dean picked up Sam’s laptop and held the door for his brother.

“I’m not helpless.”

“No,” Dean agreed with him. “But you do look like shit. You should have said something, Sammy.”

 _‘Like what?’_ Sam wanted to ask but didn’t and he spent another night tossing and turning, alternately cursing Dean and crying out to him. Dean obviously didn’t sleep well either.

The week was up and they headed back to Sean’s place. Pushing the door open, even though there was a closed sign in the window, Dean glanced around. Sharing a smile with Sean, Dean walked in, Sam right behind him.

“Got the last of the ink in today, we planned this just right.” Sean looked closely at the two of them. “You guys look like shit.”

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” Dean admitted and he got a sharp look from Sean.

“Nightmares?” He looked at Sam who nodded.

“Because of the tattoo,” Sean said. “I guess I could have warned you this might happen. Seen it before with others who have got a Talent.”

Sam could tell by the way Sean pronounced it that it was a big T on talent, like a gift or curse.

“The tattoo messes with their flow? Chi? I’m not sure. But it takes a few days to settle down and meanwhile there might be floating tables, exploding glasses, or nightmares. Guess I figured you boys knew about it.” Sean gave an apologetic shrug.

“Would it cause you to see things?” Dean asked. “You know, that weren’t there?”

“That tattoo? No way. You might see things that you wouldn’t have noticed before,” Sean said as he motioned Sam over to the chair. Sam stripped his shirt off and Sean took a look at Sam’s back. “Looks good. You’ve been taking good care of it. A little dry, but I’ve got some lotion here that will help with that.” Sean grabbed a bottle of Lubriderm and put some on his back.

“No pain?” Sean asked and Sam shook his head. “Good, let’s get this cube started.” He pulled Dean’s drawing out. With an amazing amount of skill, he picked the spot for the center circle. Grabbing an iron, which Sam had learned were the inking guns, he careful drew a circle on Sam’s skin. Changing colors, he slowly worked through all thirteen circles.

He looked up at Sam, “You okay?”

Sam nodded.

“I’d like to get as much done today as I can, because it will need to heal before I can ink the rest.”

Sam just nodded again, breathing through his nose. His jaw was clenched tight. Sean must have seen it because he made Sam take a break, walk around, relax. Dean sat watching and talking tattoos with Sean as Sam tried to do just that. Finally he sat back down and nodded at Sean, who started on the outer lines and slowly making his way inward. Sean stopped because, he explained, the detail would be lost in the healing.

Sam winced as Sean slathered the tattoo with what Sam now knew was an anti-bacterial cream. After putting bandages on, he helped Sam to his feet.

“I should wait at least six weeks before finishing but I get the feeling you boys don’t have that long, so I’ll see you in four and we’ll check it. I might be able to do it in five at the earliest. You guys going to be around for a while then?” It was really less of a question and more of a statement.

Dean nodded and told Sean thanks again. Sam and he made it back to the motel without running into any pretty people who made things stop or Sam having any more visions and they both headed inside. Sam collapsed on his bed, watching as Dean again checked the door and windows and laid more salt across the door, where they had disturbed it.

Salt didn’t help the nightmares and Sam woke up from a particularly bloody one with Dean shaking him. Half awake, he asked Dean if he would sleep with him. Dean gave him a look but motioned for Sam to scoot over. Sliding into bed, Dean wrapped his arm around Sam and Sam for once fell right back to sleep and slept the night through, not a nightmare in sight. Too tired to worry about being close to his brother, his body fell into its oldest habits of comfort by being near Dean. Sam didn’t stop to question why, he was just happy to fall asleep and stay asleep with no nightmares.

A week and a different salt and burn later, Sam woke to a knock on the door. He stumbled over and looked out the peep hole. A child. Looking around to see if he could spot parents, he gave a huge sigh and cracked the door open. As soon as he did, he knew he was in the presence of another of those people. Sam couldn’t hear the traffic he could see on the road, all he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears and his breath that rasped loudly past his throat. The child looked up at him with large eyes filled with tears.

“Wilt thou treat with us?”

It broke Sam’s heart to tell the pleading child no but he needed to think of Dean, first, always. Sam shook his head and one perfect tear rolled down the child’s cheek and he disappeared.

“Who’s that, Sammy?” Dean slurred from the bed, sleep thick in his voice.

“No one at all,” Sam said and shut the door.

Dean patted the mattress beside him. “’m back to bed.” He had noticed that they had got their first decent night’s sleep in a while when they had been asleep together.

Sam wasn’t sure if it was the nightmares or lack of them but he had been remarkably comfortable sleeping next to Dean. He knew that somewhere in his twisted mind he still wanted his brother but his relief of not having to face nightmare after nightmare or two days without sleep, (which he had also tried) was much more of a relief than a turn on.

“’kay,” he murmured as he slid in beside Dean and fell quickly back to sleep, his arm slung over his brother.

Sam was regretful when Dean wasn’t wrapped around him when he woke up. Instantly feeling guilty for his regret, he got up and went to brush away the bad taste that feeling left in his mouth. Noticing that Dean was gone, Sam figured he went to get some more doughnuts or something. The salt line was scuffed but not broken at the door, he noted.

Finishing up, Sam walked back out and saw a slip of paper in the door. He looked at it closely before he opened the door and let the piece of parchment flutter to the floor. That’s what it was, true parchment. When he had been at Stanford he had had to use the ‘rare book’ collection twice. He had been given training, set in a special room with filtered air, and had looked over scrolls of law decrees from the _Album Palaeographicum_ and they had been parchment.

Grabbing a tissue, he lifted the parchment and turned it so he could read it. In large, ornate, flowing letters it read :

 _If thou willst not treat with us then thou mayst parley to retrievest what is thine._

It took Sam a moment to work through the syntax and grammar to get the meaning but the moment he did he dropped the parchment and looked outside for Dean. He called for his brother even though he knew he wouldn’t be answered. Dialing his cell number got a ‘this subscriber is out of service range’ message and then he began to panic. His chest hurt where he had the tattoo and his heart hurt because Dean was gone. They’d taken him.

Sitting down, he did what he should have done days ago and called Missouri.

It was almost like a confessional. Missouri would ask him what he did and he would tell her, a little more each time. In a backwards, totally confusing way starting from Dean disappearing and then about the note and then about the people.

“Wait,” Missouri said. “Tell me everything you can remember about the woman, the man, and the child that you saw and Dean didn’t.”

Sam told her about the unearthly beauty, the way the world seemed to stop, and the way they talked. How they had asked him if he would treat with them.

Missouri stopped him. “Exact words if you can remember.”

“Wilt thou treat with us,” Sam said the words with little inflection.

“These people, they have silver eyes?”

“How’d you –?” Was all Sam got out before Missouri interrupted him.

“Sam Winchester. Now you listen and you listen good. Your brother’s been taken by the fae. They want you to do something.”

Sam snorted. Of course they wanted him to do something. Then he stopped. Had she said fae? As in fairies? He couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“So help me, if you don’t listen I will beat you with my spoon. You need to find him fast, the faster the better. They appeal to your wants, your desires. If your brother eats anything, drinks anything, then he’s stuck. Are you listening, Sam? They want to deal but if Dean hasn’t done anything you can walk out with him”

Sam nodded and then realized that she couldn’t see him. “Yes, ma’am. But how?”

“Think, boy. Use the few brains that you seem to have and think. Did you get the Lemos tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“And the other?”

“Little over half way,” Sam told her, pressing his hand against his bandage and thinking he should change it.

Missouri’s voice changed, like she had an idea. “Did’ja ever meditate at college?”

“Some,” Sam admitted.

“You sit and concentrate on your brother . . . meditate on him, try and focus all that energy that you can feel now. Listen to your heart, Sam, and it will lead you to Dean.” And with that Missouri hung up.

Sam realized that she hadn’t told him what to do if Dean had done anything. Sighing, he concentrated and relaxed into his meditation position. Sitting on the bed cross-legged, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He did it until the only thing he could hear was his breath and his heartbeat, thudding slowly in the background. Feeling the energy tingling at the base of his spine, Sam thought about Dean, concentrated on him, eyes closed.

He felt something like a tug, it seemed to start in his spine where the tattoo was and flowed up his spine and around his chest to his heart and then flowed out and Sam opened his eyes. A line of sparkly light went out from his chest and flowed outside. When he closed his eyes, he could still see it.

He knew it was Dean, somehow. He just knew it. Getting up, he walked out the door. Then he walked back into the room and grabbed the key to the Impala. Sliding in to the car, Sam turned the key and backed out and set out to follow this light. He drove for at least an hour following the light up into the mountains. Parking at the Barlow Point trail head, he saw he needed a forest service pass. Shit, the last thing they needed was the Impala getting towed. Sam knew that he was worrying about the Impala rather than being afraid of what had happened to Dean, and he was fine with that. He would have time to worry after he found him.

Digging around, he found a forest service ID card that he slid into the window. They might leave him a note but they wouldn’t tow it. Sam liked that about rangers over the police. The police would tow it because they could. Looking at the trail in front of him, he pulled out a backpack that he put salt, silver, and crosses. Hell he took the stakes, too, because he wasn’t sure what would take out a fairy. In tales they talked of iron being anathema to them so he also picked up the iron knife that Dad had made and slid it into his pocket. Shoving a shotgun in with a few of the ‘blessed’ shells he had, he grabbed water and some power bars, also the topographical map of the area that he’d had printed at Kinkos on his way up here. Not knowing if he was in for a long hike or a short one, he packed some clothes and also shoved the note that he had got into the bag. Zipping it up, he settled it on his back, locked the Impala and headed down a trail that had the light on it.

Walking for about an hour, the path he was on ended at a campground. The light turned left and went across a bridge. Within minutes he was passing signs that warned of washouts and that he proceeded at his own risk. Then he saw signs that said there used to be a town here. Monte Cristo. Apparently it used to be a big mining town. He and Dean had banished more than one spirit from places like this. However, this one wasn’t haunted, just empty. Trees and open space with a few items scattered around. There were a couple of cabins tucked under the trees but they all said private property on them.

Following the light, he walked past a sign that read Glacier Basin Trail trailhead and there was a registration box. He paused and signed a slip with the name that was on the id back at the car and then followed the light to the right and, following an old pipe, he climbed until he reached a flat spot. Catching his breath, Sam looked around. The light kept going up, following some stairs, and he climbed after it.

Crossing an old railroad grade, he climbed some more, stopping one other time to catch his breath. He looked around and what a sight to see. It was as if he had gone back in time. There wasn’t a power line in sight, just forest and rivers and patches of fields and mountains. Pulling out the map, he plotted his route so far. He must be near Poodle Dog Pass. He checked twice, thinking about how much fun Dean would have had mocking a name like that.

The light went up and then to the right so he followed but he was tiring. Stopping, he looked down to his right. The light and the path it followed led down to a small lake that was glistening in the sunlight. Pulling the map out again, he followed the trail and found Silver Lake. The light followed the trail around and then cut off into the woods. Pulling the water out of the pack, Sam took a big drink and then headed down to the lake and off to the woods.

Three hours later, Sam stood in front of a seemingly impassible barrier of blackthorn bushes. He knew they weren’t impassible because Dean had clearly passed through; the light went right into the deepest part of the thicket. He looked for footprints, a small door . . . he didn’t know what.

He paced the entire thicket. It was a rough circle and he figured there must be room for a football field inside it. Getting back to where he started, he finally stopped and sat his backpack down. Pulling out the parchment, he looked at it for a moment and then up at the wall of bushes in front of him. For a moment something flickered behind it, it had just been blank space up until then. It was as if the sky was filled with a huge tree, then it was gone and the odd blankness replaced it.

“I’m here to parley,” he finally said after taking out the note and re-reading it, and the bushes parted in front of him. He couldn’t see where they ended but, grabbing his pack, he walked in.

He was immediately surrounded by silence. No longer hearing the birds or even the sound of the wind as it blew kind of freaked him out but it also told him he was heading in the right direction. The walls of the passageway grew slowly closer together and just when he was sure he had walked at least the diameter of the circle of blackthorns, he exited them.

He was greeted with cheering. There were also a few boos but Sam was too stunned to notice. It was as if the world was suddenly populated by long-haired, silver-eyed people who were applauding him. Him, of all things. Then he noticed the man and woman that he had seen back in the real world.

Walking up to him they smiled, like they hadn’t kidnapped his brother to get him here.

“Samuel, I want to welcome you to Silverthorn. I am . . . we,” the man motioned to the group around them, “are so pleased.”

“What happened to the thee’s and thou’s?”

“That is the Tradition,” the woman said. “But come, you must be tired.”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was flat and threatening.

The child that had come to him at the hotel room approached him and, looking around, he could see no other children. The people touched him almost as if he was a good luck charm. “Sammy, right?”

Sam nodded. He wasn’t going to argue with a child that his name was Sam.

“Come, I’ll take you to Dean. He misses you.” And the child held out his hand. “My name is Connor, by the way.”

The situation was surreal but Sam nodded and took Connor’s hand. He finally looked around at where he was. It was really dark, almost overcast, and he could see small houses tucked in with the trees, almost a part of them, and then he looked up.

“Sammy, wake up. Please, wake up.” Connor was leaning over him and Sam focused on the boy and not what was stretching above him. “It took Dean five days to notice it,” the boy confided.

Five days? That didn’t sound right. Dean had disappeared this morning. Sam hated thinking that he might be a coward so he took a deep breath and focused on what lay beyond Connor. It was a tree, his brain told him so but it also told him it was impossible. It was flat out fucking impossible. The umbrella of the tree filled the sky, as far as he could see. It was taller than the mountains that surrounded them. Hell, if it were real, they could have seen it from their motel room. The world would be talking about it.

Sam stopped. The world, he thought, and looked at the tree closely. Holy fucking shit. He pushed himself up, walked closer and just looked at the trunk. Well, the part of it he could see, anyway. Realizing it was a root, there was a mass of huge roots digging into the ground, he looked up and way above his head the tree actually started.

The small boy patted the root in front of Sam. “Iubhar,” Connor named it. “The world tree,” he added with a small smile.”

“But there’s . . .” Sam started and then shut his mouth with a snap. Obviously there was a world tree. Was there an Ouroboros too? Sam shook his head. This was impressive but he was here for Dean.

Connor took his hand again and this time Sam didn’t faint as they walked under the huge branches that rose above his head. They came to one of the houses that looked like it was a part of one of the trees and, getting closer, Sam decided that it was, but nothing had been cut. It was as if the tree grew precisely as needed. Walking in, Sam’s eyes were drawn to a bed in another room, to Dean.

Letting out a breath that he felt like he had been holding since he had found the note, Sam walked across the entry and through another room until he stood before Dean. The sight of him was like a punch in the gut. Sam had forgotten in the whole ‘getting Dean back’ thing that he needed him like a fish needs water. He also felt something relax and he realized that the golden light had vanished. “Dean,” he breathed out and touched his brother as if to reassure himself that he was real.

Dean’s eyes slowly opened. “Sammy.” Then he seemed to realize he wasn’t dreaming or whatever. Quickly getting up, he pulled Sam into his embrace.

Sam leaned into his brother, wrapping his long arms around him. “Dean,” he said again.

“I brought him, Dean,” Connor spoke up.

“Great job you did too, little man.” Dean let Sam step back but kept a hand on him.

“Mum said you weren’t…”

“Supposed to call you little man,” Dean and Connor finished together.

“Because he’s not a man.” The beautiful woman from the graveyard walked into the room that was quickly becoming too crowded. “I’ll give you a moment with Samuel but then we need to speak.” Taking a hold of Connor’s hand, she turned and walked out of the room.

“What the fuck, dude?” Sam tried to keep the anger out of his voice. He had been scared that he would never see Dean again and here Dean was, joking with the people who took him.

“Sam, it’s not like that. They’re cool. It’s okay.”

“What the fuck have you been smoking? It is not fucking okay. They took you. I thought . . .” He gripped Dean’s hand, unable to finish his sentence.

“I see that. I’m fine, Sammy, I am. They didn’t hurt me. They’re good people and they need our help.”

Sam looked his brother over; he didn’t appear to be harmed. “Connor said that it took you five days to notice the Tree. How long have you been here?”

“About a month. I was wondering what was taking you so long, but I knew you’d come.”

“Dean, you disappeared this morning.” There was tales of time passing differently inside ‘fairy mounds’ and this was somewhat more than a mound. “And what the fuck was up with the ‘Sam, they took me and they’re dangerous’?” Anger was prevalent in Sam’s voice.

“Oh, you heard that, did you?”

“That was the vision I had in the fucking parking lot, before you were gone. When you disappeared I expected the worst. But no, here you sit, friends with them.”

“Just calm down. It’s cool. I’m sorry the vision scared you. Hell, when they took me I might have been a little scared. But then I got here, and well, tell me that you can’t feel it.” Dean was being calm and in control and it threw him.

Sam paused and for a moment he just listened to his feelings. Calming down, he was almost overwhelmed by a feeling of peace. He let out his breath. “Peace.”

“Peace,” Dean agreed. “How many times in our lives have we felt peace? Well, you might have more than me,” he admitted. “But, Sam, it’s here. It penetrates everything these people do.”

Nodding, Sam was, well to be honest, he was speechless. Dean and peace were not two words that he usually put together. Remembering what Missouri had said, he asked if Dean had eaten anything. The look he got told him that clearly Dean considered him an idiot.

“A month, Sam, what do you think?”

“Stupid question.”

“Stupid question,” Dean agreed.

“Missouri said –” Sam sighed, of course he’d fucked everything up, like usual. “She said you’d be stuck here if you ate or drank anything.”

It was Dean’s turn to sigh. “Sam, I think Missouri was right, I am stuck here. Not because of anything I’ve eaten but because I want to help them, I want to save this place, these people. Come, talk with them. Please, just give ‘em a chance.”

Looking closely at Dean, Sam noticed that he was more relaxed than Sam could ever recall. There was a stillness that had been missing ever since he had made the deal to sell his soul for Sam’s life. It was as if Dean, for the time being, had just put all that aside. Maybe he could. If he stayed here, then maybe his year would never be up, or maybe it would just be over that much more quickly.

“Okay, for you, Dean, only for you.”

“Great!” Dean clapped him on the back and led him out into the other room.

“Samuel, Dean,” the woman greeted them both.

“Sam, this is Bridget, and that is Cael. You know Connor’s name already.” Dean nodded at the boy.

Sam looked over the three of them. Bridget had risen when they walked in the room but she had been on the floor, playing with Connor. Cael was still seated on the floor with Connor. Noticing that her gown was split front and back and she had on pants underneath that appeared, to Sam at least, to be what Jessica had called harem pants.

“Nice to meet you.” Sam nodded at all of them.

“Will you listen to our petition?” Bridget asked.

“Can I stop you?” Sam asked and was jabbed in the side hard, by Dean.

“Yes, you can. We need your help, Sam. Something that can only be given freely. If you don’t want to help, you can leave.”

“Just like that? I can walk out with Dean? No attempts to make me feel guilty?”

“Yes, just like that. But, you will never know why we needed you, and you alone, Samuel Winchester.”

Well, damn. Now Sam’s curiosity was digging at him and he bet that she knew it. He glanced at Dean and was surprised to find him not trying to influence him either way. “Dean?”

“I already told you I want to help.”

Sam nodded and thought. If this was just a trap it was a pretty elaborate one. If you did favors for the fae, didn’t they owe you something? Maybe Sam could get some help with Dean’s deal.

“I offer my help,” he said.

The smiles that broke out on everyone’s faces were amazing. Sam was quite literally breathless until Dean whispered in his ear. “Breathe, Sam.” The hot air flowing over his ear and neck sent shivers down his spine and raised goosebumps on his neck. Sam took a breath and rubbed at his neck, feeling awkwardly aroused.

Bridget explained that the protections that were interwoven with the great tree were weakening. Someone or rather something was openly trying to break the spells that kept her people and the great tree safe. Sam understood some of what she was saying but not all.

“Do you know if your spells can be broken from the outside?”

Bridget looked at him sadly. “No, they cannot.”

“So it has to be someone inside.”

Bridget nodded and added, “Or possessed.”

Sam looked at her thoughtfully and then he looked at Dean as he understood what she was saying. They knew one of their people were possessed by a demon and that with Sam here, the likelihood of it showing itself increased and if Sam were actively looking for it, his powers were good for something. Sam was both the bait and the trap, how wonderful. He had all but agreed to help these people and now that he knew what was going on, what was at stake, he couldn’t just leave.

Looking at Dean, who had just caught on to what Sam was supposed to do, he got a firm head shake. No, of course Dean didn’t want him to do this. Sam gave him the ‘what the fuck am I supposed to do’ look and Dean shrugged. Sam sighed.

“I don’t suppose there is a quick way to do this.”

Cael spoke up for the first time. “It would be easier if your marking was complete.”

Sam and Dean looked at one another and then back at Cael.

“The symbol on your chest.”

“My tattoo?” Sam asked, confused.

“Yes, the holy symbol.”

“Holy? So you believe in God?” Sam asked a bit confused. All lore about fae, the fae, had them soulless. But he thought about it and, if a demon could possess one, they must have souls.

“There is a creator and a destroyer. We have ever fought on the creator’s side. As do you both, even though the destroyer has touched you most intimately,” Cael shook his head in disbelief. “Never have I seen two so touched by darkness yet surrounded by light. Your love sustains you.” He looked deeply at them both and Sam almost felt for a moment that his soul was being searched.

Whatever Cael saw made him nod in satisfaction. “I will tell you more, later.” Sam must have had a question in his eyes because Cael added, “It has to do with the love you share. And that is all I am going to say for now.”

Sam nodded. He knew that he wasn’t going to get anything more out of Cael. Looking at Dean, Sam was surprised to see a thoughtful look on his face. What exactly had Cael said, the love they share? No, that was just impossible. That was all Sam being wrong and twisted and nothing about Dean.

Dean was still looking thoughtful as he showed Bridget, Cael, and Connor out. Leading Sam into another part of the house, Dean fixed himself something to eat. Sam wasn’t sure what it was, if he didn’t know Dean so well he would have called it a vegetable stir fry, but this was Dean who didn’t do meatless.

Poking at the food set in front of him, Sam looked up when Dean made a noise.

“It’s not poisoned.”

“I know that, I’m looking for the meat.”

“There isn’t any.”

“That’s it. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Dean?” Sam asked with a half smile on his face. He wasn’t serious, not really.

“Ha!” Dean said. “That was so funny I forgot to laugh.” He smirked at Sam. Smirked!

“Since when do you go meatless?”

“Since they don’t have any meat here. They don’t ‘do’ meat.” Dean sounded a little frustrated and Sam threw his head back and laughed and laughed until tears were streaming down his face.

“What?” Dean asked after Sam had calmed down.

Sam waved his hands in front of his face trying to ward off his brother’s question because he knew if he answered he would just start laughing again and this time it might hurt Dean’s feelings.

“Fine, then.” Dean understood Sam like always. “So do you think Cael was talking about sex?”

Sam choked on his food so badly that Dean had to come and pound him on the back. “You know they are brother and sister,” Dean said enigmatically.

“Bridget and Cael?”

Dean nodded.

“But I thought . . . Connor?” Sam tilted his head slightly and looked at his brother.

“He’s their son.”

“But what about . . .?” Sam couldn’t even ask the question right.

“Recessives?”

Sam nodded; sure, he’d go with that.

“Not many left in such a homogenous group. Connor is, however, required to bring in someone from another group to be his mate.” Sam noticed that Dean didn’t say bride.

“Magic works here, Sam,” Dean said and Sam rolled his eyes at the obviousness of his statement. “You never answered my question. Do you think Cael was talking about sex?”

Shrugging, Sam tried to change the subject back to food, asking Dean what was for dessert.

“You, if you don’t answer me.”

“I don’t know!” Sam pushed away from the table. “I don’t know, they’re your friends, you tell me.”

“Fine.” Dean stood and walked over to Sam. “I think he was. I think you want to. I think that you think about doing this as much as I have.” With that, Dean wrapped one hand in Sam’s shirt and the other hand behind his neck and pulled him closer. Dean kissed him.

Dean. Kissed. Him. Sam’s brain paused but his body didn’t, it knew what it wanted. Their lips touched and Sam’s parted and then his mouth was thoroughly ravished. Sam was hesitant at first because he couldn’t believe this was real, but that changed and he was kissing Dean back, tongues twisting and licking and teeth biting. Then Dean was chuckling and Sam pulled back.

“If only you knew how long I wanted to do that.” Dean smiled and whatever resistance Sam had to this melted away. It was like the sunrise breaking over the mountains, one moment you are in darkness and the next you are squinting in the bright sunshine. It had been so long since Dean had smiled at him like that. Like Sam was the only thing in the world to him.

“It’s been a while for me, too,” Sam admitted and then leaned in to kiss his brother again. He felt heady, almost drunk on his emotions. Stopping a breath away, Sam took a moment to pinch himself just to make sure this was real. Dean closed the gap and Sam slid his fingers around the back of Dean’s neck. Holding him still while he showed Dean he knew what he was doing.

Their lips brushed and then Sam sucked Dean’s lower lip between his, lightly biting on it. Dean moaned and Sam’s lips moved over his, his tongue pressing into Dean’s open mouth, his hand tightening on the back of Dean’s neck. Sam tilted his head for better access and then kissed Dean breathless.

Tongues touching, hesitantly at first and then with more vigor, Sam’s brain had pretty much shut down and all he was doing was feeling. Feeling Dean pressed up against him, their hard cocks rubbing through their jeans. Sam groaned and Dean took his hand and led him down the hall to the bedroom that Sam had seen when he first came in.

Dean started shucking his pants and shirt and was nude in seconds. Sam still had on a few layers from his hike. Taking things off gave him time to think. Wasn’t this wrong? He looked at Dean, who was standing by his bed watching Sam as he stopped getting undressed.

“What?”

“This is …” _Twisted, sick, perverted, wrong._ Sam couldn’t get any of the words out. Dean must have guessed what he was thinking because he stepped up to Sam, close enough for Sam to smell him, but he didn’t touch him.

“We don’t have to do anything, Sammy. It’s okay,” Dean said with a sad smile, the fire dying in his eyes.

Sam wanted to bring that fire back but he was also scared of it. Scared of how this was going to change their relationship. He was letting his fears stop him from what he wanted and it was obviously stopping Dean.

“It’s okay,” Dean said again and picked up his pants.

It may have been the look on Dean’s face, his obvious fear that he had done something irrevocable. Well he had, but not in the irredeemable way Dean obviously seemed to think. They couldn’t change the fact that they had kissed and Sam didn’t want to. He may only have a few months left with Dean but damn it, if he could be with his brother, make him happy, the hell with the consequences. He pulled his t-shirt off over his head and tossed it at Dean, who looked at him with a sad kind of pissed off look on his face.

“Come here,” Sam said, his voice promising all kinds of good things if Dean would just comply.

Dean’s chin lifted and there was a small spark in his eyes. “No.”

Sam stripped off his jeans and underwear and looked at Dean who was still standing with his pants in his hand, only now he was staring at Sam’s cock. It twitched and Dean looked up and met Sam’s eyes. Cocking an eyebrow, Sam slowly walked towards Dean. Dean’s eyes fell shut as Sam neared him. Standing close enough to Dean that he could feel the heat from his body, Sam bent his head and breathed on Dean’s face, his lips bare millimeters from Dean’s skin. Dean tilted his head back and kept his eyes closed as Sam pushed at his underwear. Dean quickly stepped out of them and, dropping his pants on the floor, he kicked everything over so that he could be closer to Sam.

Finally, Dean seemed to have enough. He leaned up as Sam neared his lips and they kissed again. This time Dean took control and wrapped his hand around the back of Sam’s neck, holding on to him. Sam’s lips moved against Dean’s soft ones and Dean pulled Sam against him, both of them groaning as their cocks rubbed. Then Dean was grabbing Sam’s ass and grinding against him. Reaching down between them, he wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and Sam threw his head back as Dean left a line of bite marks on his neck and rubbed their cocks at the same time.

“Sammy,” Dean murmured against his skin, his lips and teeth leaving a trail up Sam’s neck.

Sam was incapable of making any sound except for these desperate little noises, half whine, half pleading. It seemed to get to Dean as he squeezed their cocks together, smooth skin sliding, their pre come wetting everything as Dean rubbed over the heads.

Slipping his other hand behind Sam, he slid his fingers down Sam’s crack and Sam’s whine grew more desperate. He was humping against Dean’s cock, pushing up through his hand. He hadn’t been this turned on by a hand job ever. “Oh, fuck.”

“That’s it, Sammy,” Dean said into his neck as he circled Sam’s hole with his finger.

“Dean.” Sam was begging, for what exactly he wasn’t certain.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Dean said and Sam came. Splattering the both of them, warm fluid squirted out of his cock and Dean came as Sam’s come dripped down, encasing his hand and their cocks in its warmth. Dean smiled at the sticky mess between them and brought his hand covered with both of their fluids up to his mouth to taste. Sam’s legs finally gave out on him and he collapsed backward onto the bed, dragging Dean with him.

Dean pulled his finger out of his mouth with a small umph as he landed on Sam. Recovering quickly, Dean grinned and once again ran a finger up Sam’s stomach, picking up more of their combined fluids, only this time he held the hand out to Sam, challenge plain on his face. Sam grinned and leaned up to lick Dean’s hand, then he pulled him down for a kiss. Tongues searching each other’s mouth for a taste of both of them, Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth when he grabbed Sam’s hand and pushed it between them.

Sam’s fingers were thoroughly coated and Dean maneuvered so that he could hold Sam’s hand and give him access to his fingers. Starting with the little finger, Dean proceeded to clean each digit, licking between them and sucking on them until Sam was hard again.

Grinning at him, Dean ran his hand through the combined come on his chest and pushed Sam back. Dean leaned over and kissed him while he slid his goopy finger up the crack of Sam’s ass. Touching his hole, Dean slid his hand across, depositing an amount of come there. Then he was pressing a finger in and Sam actually relaxed, like finally they were doing what they were supposed to.

Slipping one finger in and then two, Dean slowly worked Sam open, all the while muttering to him. “Oh god, Sam, you’re so tight and hot. I’m going to love fucking you. I can’t wait to push my cock into your tight ass.” Dean slid in a third finger and fucked Sam with them.

It was starting to burn and Sam must have made a noise because Dean was backing off and looking at him. Sam blushed and mumbled sorry or something. He couldn’t believe he was here, with his knees gripped tightly by his own hands with his brother’s fingers up his ass and he was blushing. “Ummm. Hurts a little, do you have lube?”

Dean didn’t smirk or laugh or do anything that made Sam feel like an idiot for asking, he just pulled open a drawer that was so well hidden in the bedside table that if Sam hadn’t seen it open he would have sworn there wasn’t a drawer there. Dean pulled out a bottle of something and Sam watched as he poured the viscous fluid out on his hand and then was amazed at how the thick almost sticky stuff just flowed around Dean’s fingers.

Rubbing his slicked up hand in the crack of Sam’s ass, Dean groaned as his finger slipped inside Sam.

Sam was quickly begging as Dean slid two more fingers into him. Sam knew why Dean was taking his time, he didn’t want to hurt Sam, but Sam was quickly getting to the point where he didn’t care. All he knew was he was pushing back on Dean’s fingers trying to get more. To be honest, he felt like quite the slut as he was soon pleading with Dean to fuck him.

“Dean,” Sam growled as Dean smiled at him and continued finger fucking him.

Dean’s eyebrow rose. “Yes, Sam? Want something?” He pushed his fingers in harder, stroking Sam’s prostate as he pulled them back out and Sam let out a keening moan, his back arching as he tried to keep Dean’s fingers inside him. Finally Dean seemed to have enough fun with the teasing and was ready to move on to better things. He slicked up his dick and positioned himself above his brother. He paused, his cock pushing against Sam’s hole, and looked down at him. “You sure?”

In response, Sam pushed against Dean’s cock and gave a little gasp as it pushed past the first ring of muscle. Sam watched Dean closed his eyes and stifled a loud moan. Then he was pressing in and Sam felt full, so much fuller than he had with Dean’s fingers inside him, as Dean’s balls were pressed against his ass.

“Hurt?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. Dean gave him a little smile and began to move. The sensations were incredible and overwhelming, feeling Dean sliding in and out of him. Every time Dean pushed all the way in he rubbed past Sam’s prostate. Now, Sam knew that it could be pleasurable to have his prostate rubbed, hell, he’d stuck his fingers up his ass while jacking off and with some experimenting had figured out that rubbing across the thin layer of skin that lay between his fingers and the group of smooth muscle that made up his prostate would get him off quicker.

However, Dean’s cock was more than his fingers, larger and pushing against his prostate with every stroke. Sam felt his second orgasm building quicker than he would have thought possible. Leaning over him, Dean bent down close to Sam. “Still okay?” he breathed out as he pushed in, the hot breath fluttering the ends of Sam’s now sweat-damp hair.

Sam nodded and tried to collect himself enough to actually answer but then Dean slid his hand around Sam’s cock and Sam bucked up so hard Dean slipped out of him.

Positioning himself again, when Dean slid in this time his hand was already encircling Sam’s cock. “Easy, Sammy,” Dean murmured, like he was a wild horse trying to get away. Dean slid in and out of him, his hand working the same rhythm on Sam’s cock. It wasn’t very long before Sam was writhing and trying to push up into Dean’s hand at the same time trying to push down on Dean’s cock.

“Harder,” he pleaded, “faster, Dean. Please.” The last word came out as a gasp and Dean did as Sam asked. Letting go of his cock, Dean focused on fucking Sam.

Harder and faster Dean pounded into him, his hands on the bed beside Sam’s head. Lifting his body, Sam met Dean every time. Within moments of encouraging Dean, Sam came again, slicking up his stomach and Dean’s.

“Come, Dean,” Sam gasped as he trembled from the force of his orgasm. “Come,” Sam was asking and demanding at the same time. Dean groaned and pushed into Sam and held still as Sam’s ass clenched around him. Sam could feel the warmth of the come pulsing into him.

Collapsing on Sam, Dean lay between his legs and Sam felt Dean’s cock soften and slip out of his ass. Sam was pretty sure that any declaration of love would be met with derision right now, so he kept it to himself and just wrapped his arms around his brother and lay there.

Waking up a few hours later, they both shared a look as they peeled apart, dried come sticking them together. “Shower?” Sam asked as Dean stood. Leading the way to a room just off of the bedroom, Dean pushed Sam up to a wooden platform on the floor. Sam stood on it and Dean fiddled with something on the wall and there was warm water pouring over Sam from out of the ceiling.

Lathering up with what seemed to be a powder, Dean handed some to Sam. Sam played with the stuff, letting it sit on his palm and get wet then rolling it with his thumb into a sudsy lather. It dissolved quickly into a sharp-smelling foam, with a pine-like scent. They both washed the dried come and sweat from their previous exertions away. Sam reached out and scrubbed a bit of come that Dean had missed off of his shoulder. Dean returned the favor and slid his hand to the underside of Sam’s chin.

“Yours, I think,” Dean said with a flirty grin and Sam didn’t stop a similar smile from sliding over his face. Standing there like an idiot with a grin on his face until Dean flicked water at him. Sam shook his head and tilted his chin towards the ceiling and let the warm water rinse the soap off of his body. Stepping back a little, he let Dean get directly under the overhead flow.

After rinsing, Sam gently pushed Dean against the wall and put his hands on either side of Dean’s head, water running down his back. Leaning in, he kissed Dean, slow and uncertain because he didn’t quite believe what had happened the night before. “Dean,” he whispered, his lips just above his brother’s.

Dean slid his hand in one long languid motion up Sam’s hip and waist, across his chest and up to his neck. “Sammy,” Dean answered and pulled his brother closer, lips moving as slowly as his hand had. It wasn’t as frantic as before, they just explored this new thing between them.

Sam’s cock was hardening as Dean’s tongue slid across his. Someone moaned, it might have been Sam but he wasn’t sure. Dean slid down the wall of the shower to his knees, right in front of Sam’s cock. Which twitched. Dean on his knees, in front of Sam, and Sam was about ready to hyperventilate. Putting one arm on the shower wall and letting his other hand play through Dean’s short, wet hair as Dean sucked Sam’s cock into his mouth, Sam tried and failed to catch his breath.

The water played over Sam’s back, cascading down his sides and falling around Dean as he toyed with Sam. Licking up the underside of Sam’s dick, and then taking just the head in his mouth for a quick suck, a lick and then starting the whole thing over again. Sam groaned.

He didn’t whine, no matter what Dean claimed, no matter that the noise began at the back of his throat and stayed there. Sam was just moments from begging and Dean seemed to know it. He slid one hand up Sam’s cock, his hand loose, and Sam lost it as he slid his fingers over the head, wiping away some more pre-come.

Sam broke down and pleaded. “Please, Dean.”

“What, Sammy? This?” He clamped his hand down firmly on Sam’s cock, giving him something to rub against. “Or this?” He moved his head closer and took Sam’s cock in all the way down to the base.

“Fuck,” was all Sam could say.

Dean backed off of Sam, who could feel his cock sliding out of Dean’s throat and his balls tightened as Dean grinned up at him. “Oh, we’ll do more of that later, don’t worry.”

He sucked Sam back down just as what he’d said registered in Sam’s brain. Dean’s mouth, Dean’s hands, and Dean’s words had him coming, pulsing deep in Dean’s throat. Sam nearly passed out. As it was, his legs were shaking as Dean slowly stood and Sam levered himself up so Dean could slide in between him and the shower wall.

“Steady there,” Dean said and then Sam was kissing him, licking at the inside of his mouth for a taste of himself. Dean let himself be plundered and then they broke for a breath. “Kinky much?”

Sam grinned at him. “You have no idea.”

“But I’d like to.”

Nodding, Sam figured out that he needed to press a button that was flush with the wall, nearly invisible, to shut the water off. Just then the lights, or whatever these people used for lights, flickered. Sam looked at Dean. “What –?” he started to ask.

“Someone’s at the door. We don’t need to answer it but it’s probably something important. They wouldn’t have bothered us for anything less.”

Sam nodded and grabbed a towel from the towel rack in the corner. He was pleasantly surprised to find it warm. Examining the towel rack a little closer, he could see it was made of wood but there were holes along the top. Sliding a finger over one of the holes he jerked back as a burst of steam came out.

“Ready, Sherlock?”

Sam stepped back from the rack and threw Dean a look over his shoulder. Dean was smiling indulgently at him and Sam couldn’t stop his answering grin. Giving his brother a small shove, Sam pushed past him and opened the door. Walking down the hall, Sam stepped into the room that they had shared last night and picked up his jeans from the floor.

Dean entered right behind him, moving across the room to a cleverly concealed closet. With the wood grain matching the walls so well and the handles hidden in the whorls of knots, it had just looked like a wall. What was it with these people and their ‘if you don’t know it’s there you’re screwed’ way of decorating, Sam wondered. Getting out pants, Dean tossed a pair to Sam who looked at him with his eyebrow raised.

“Too big for me. Bridget must have brought them for you.”

Sam examined the pants that Dean had thrown him. They were silk, dyed dark blue shot through with what looked like gold thread. Shaking his head, he slipped them on and then grabbed the matching shirt that Dean tossed him. Pulling it over his head, he let the tunic-like shirt drape over him. He saw that Dean had something similar only in deep green that brought out the green in his eyes and made them flash like emeralds.

They walked to the front room and Dean answered the door.

There was a person that Sam didn’t know. Probably the oldest person that Sam had seen since he got here. Looking closer, Sam decided that it was probably the oldest person he had ever seen.

Dean bowed and Sam did a double take. Dean bowed, low. “Morgaine,” Dean’s voice was respectful and almost, if Sam didn’t know better, full of awe.

“This him?” the old fae asked, poking a crooked finger at Sam.

Nodding, Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him closer to the very, very old lady. “Sam, this is Morgaine. The Morgaine.” The way he said it, like Sam was supposed to know what he was talking about, was irritating.

What was more irritating was when Sam got it. He stared at the old enchantress in front of him, then he remembered his manners. He nodded his head (as close as he ever was going to get to bowing) and smiled. “Morgaine le Fey.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded her head at him in return and cackled. “I like him,” she said almost to herself and then she told Sam. “You’ll do, boy.”

Sam was trying to figure out how a figure from Arthurian mythology ended up here.

“I belong to the tree now, boy,” she said and gave him a small smirk, seemingly knowing that the first thing Sam wondered was if she could read his mind. “When you are as old as I am, nothing much takes you by surprise. Especially not humans.” At least she didn’t say humans like they were the worst sort of vermin.

“Sit, Morgaine.” Dean seemed determined to make her feel welcome and Sam decided he would help.

“Please,” Sam said and motioned to one of the chairs in the living room.

“None of that,” she said, like Sam had been flirting with her, smiling at the both of them. “I just stopped by to see your man.” She poked Dean in the side. “He is taken, right?”

Dean stepped back from her poking finger and into Sam. “Yeah, he’s taken.”

She gave them a sly smile and said she needed help to the door. “It’s too bad. He would have made a great match for Loren.”

Dean’s head snapped around and he moved quickly to help her out. He had a hurried conversation with her and when he was bent down talking to her, Morgaine looked over at Sam and winked. She patted Dean on the arm. “He’s what you need, but remember what we talked about. No more deals.”

Hanging his head like he had been yelled at by Dad, Dean nodded. Sam was utterly confused. What the hell had just happened? He watched as Dean shut the wooden door gently after the old lady had left. “Dean?”

“We need to talk.” Dean’s ability to state the obvious astounded Sam sometimes.

“Ya think?”

Dean just nodded, ignoring that Sam had just been as irritatingly sarcastic with Dean as possible. Usually it got a rise out of Dean, no problem. It was then that Sam understood just how seriously Dean was taking this whole thing. The possession, the debt that he owed for Sam, it was all coming into play.

Dean sat in one of the chairs in the living room, waiting patiently until Sam gave up looming over him and sat down, too. Looking over at Dean, Sam saw tears, fucking tears, in Dean’s eyes. What the hell was Dean going to say to him?

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, that wasn’t what he expected. Sam ran his hands over the silk pants, his calluses catching on the soft material, making a rasping noise until Dean looked at Sam’s hands and Sam stilled them.

“I had no right to bring you back. Morgaine,” Dean swallowed visibly and audibly, “she says it was evil. That I might have harmed your soul.” Dean looked up at Sam, who was shaking his head.

“I’m good.” Sam plucked up his courage and reached out to his brother. After everything that they had gone through and after everything they had done together, to one another, both cutting and loving, he wasn’t sure how Dean would take him offering him comfort. And if that didn’t say just how fucked up this relationship was, nothing did. But then again, he had never felt particularly comfortable offering Jess comfort either. Maybe it was just a failing of his.

“Dean.” This time Sam let his hand settle on Dean’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the shirt. “I . . . I never said . . .” Sam paused, he could feel the muscles in Dean’s arm tighten as though he was preparing to pull away. Sam let his hand fall away before Dean could jerk out of his grasp. “Thank you,” Sam said quietly, looking intently at Dean’s face.

Dean’s laugh was harsh and loud in the quiet room. Sam pushed off of the back of the chair and stood. He needed out of here, away from Dean who was acting so off, it was beginning to scare him.

“Sam?” Dean stood. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

Food, yeah, food would help, somehow. Sam followed Dean into the kitchen and sat on a stool as Dean began to pull things out of drawers and cupboards. Handing Sam a bowl and a fork, he sat some brown chicken eggs, at least Sam assumed they were chicken eggs, down on a folded towel and got out a hunk of some kind of cheese from what looked like just another cupboard but the cheese and the eggs were cold.

Shaking his head, Sam decided if he really wanted to know, he would ask later. Picking up an egg, he broke it into the bowl, finding it easy to fall back into old familiar habits. Growing up, Sam had been ‘in charge’ of the ‘eggs’ since he had been able to crack an egg without getting shell in the bowl, when he was around five if he remembered right.

Dad had been great at it, cracking them with one hand and dumping them into the bowl but Dean had always sucked at it. Or maybe, knowing Dean, he was ‘bad’ at it to let Sam be ‘good’ at it. Sam looked at Dean who was grating the cheese into a wooden bowl with a goofy grin on his face.

“What?”

Dean pulled a pan off of a rack that was against the wall and set it on one of a set of trivets on the counter. Fiddling with something, Sam could tell Dean had turned on a flame, he could hear the hiss of the heating pan. “It’s just . . .” Dean paused and tossed some oil in the pan and stepped back to let Sam at it, “this.” Dean motioned to Sam dumping the eggs in the pan. “It reminds me of good times.”

Sam focused on the pan full of eggs, moving them around over the heat, tilting the pan and watching the protein in the eggs firm into a solid golden mass with bits of white where he hadn’t mixed it quite perfectly. He looked up at Dean and held his hand out for the cheese.

“Give me an example,” Sam said as Dean slid the bowl with the cheese into his hand, the wood warm from where Dean had been holding it. Sprinkling the cheese on top of the eggs to melt, Sam looked over at him.

“Okay.” Dean grinned as he took up the challenge. “Picture the scene. Early morning at Bobby’s place, you were ten and hadn’t gotten all moody yet. Dad’s gone on a hunt and Bobby had told us that he was going to be getting supplies and we were to ‘make ourselves at home’. Which I knew to mean, don’t touch anything and have cereal and milk, because Bobby didn’t trust me with his stove. However, you didn’t.”

Dean shifted and nodded at the pan and Sam slid the cooked omelet onto a plate that Dean had got out at some point, folding the eggs over into a perfect half moon. Pushing a fork towards Sam, Dean lifted the plate and took a bite of omelet and then he held the plate out to Sam.

Sam took a bite as Dean continued the story and was almost distracted by how good the food was, the cheese had a sharp bite that blended seamlessly with the eggs.

“You got up and instead of waking me or going and watching TV you went into the kitchen and did what Bobby had said we could, you made yourself at home.” Dean laughed and took another bite of egg and cheese.

Sam laughed too. “I remember the look on your face when you walked into the kitchen. I don’t think I had ever seen you that scared.”

“Well, shit. I knew Bobby would beat my ass and then tell Dad and who knew what he would do.” Dean shut up and looked down at the plate, seemingly sorting out the good memories from the bad.

“Anyway, you had already had half a dozen eggs put in a bowl so I figured what the hell … we could figure out how to work Bobby’s stove, we were Winchesters. So, after about fifteen minutes of fiddling . . .”

Sam interrupted, “Really, I remember it being longer than that.”

“Well, you would, you were ten,” Dean said flatly, appearing annoyed that Sam interrupted him. Sam knew he really wasn’t but this was Dean. “Anyway,” Dean continued, “I grated the cheese, you cooked the thing and we had an omelet for breakfast. Bobby was surprised when he got home and all the dishes were done. Asked about the eggs the next day. I pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about and he let me.”

“That was good?”

“You, me, food and us not fighting. Yeah, that was a good memory.”

After they finished up, Dean led Sam out the door and into this odd world of his. People greeted Dean with a nod of the head and just stared at Sam. Dean laughed and pushed his shoulder into Sam’s and led him down a path towards the tree. Sam’s ability to pretend that the tree didn’t stretch for miles into the sky was tested but he managed to keep his eyes from following the twisted trunk upwards.

Bridget, Cael, and Connor were waiting to greet them. Sam wasn’t introduced around but whenever he met someone new they would greet him and then offer their name. The group was smaller than Sam had originally guessed, about thirty adults and Connor the only child.

The only thing Sam thought was that he must be lonely. Sam watched as Connor danced around Dean and him, so happy. Reaching out, Dean mussed his hair and Sam knelt down to talk to him. Connor might have been a bit lonely but he was not unloved. Everywhere the child went he was hugged and when he spoke the adults listened to him. Connor never told anyone what to do, and he usually did what was asked of him. Sam learned that Connor had had a playmate a few years older than him who had died. Asking around, Sam discovered that the friend had died outside, iron someone had said, and Sam had thought of the weapons that he had in his bag that was on the floor in his and Dean’s room.

Did this mean that someone on the outside was trying to destroy the Fae and maybe the Tree? Sam had thought about it and had come to the conclusion that destroying the World Tree would be a perfect thing for a demon to do. It would plunge the world into chaos, and it would make a perfect breeding place for more demons. Sam had sighed and shook his head. Maybe Morgaine would know what would happen if the tree were destroyed. It could mean the end of life on earth or it could mean something else. The problem was, Sam didn’t know.

Dean helped Sam to settle in but a few days later something happened that scared the hell out of him. He was attacked, knocked unconscious, and when he came around he realized he was blindfolded.

“Oh, the fearless leader awakes,” a woman’s voice said and Sam froze. “Oh, come on, Sammy boy, you surely didn’t think we were just going to fall in line behind you?”

Sam shook his head. Demon. He was dealing with a demon that thought that he was supposed to be some kind of leader. Leader of the demons? What the fuck was it going on about? He thought that killing old yellow eyes would have stopped any talk. After all, he was the one who had wanted Sam to lead.

“I can’t let you come in here and mess with what I’ve got going. If I succeed here, I will be the one leading the invasion, the war. I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sure if I got the chance to know you . . . well, who am I kidding? I’d still do this.”

There was a knock on the door. Sam yelled and then a hand was slapped over his mouth. “Think about this, Sammy. You just killed whoever is at the door.” Sam heard the Demon cross the room and answer the door.

“Aunty Dhalah, have you seen Sammy?” It was Connor. No!

“Run, Connor, get Dean!” Sam shouted and he heard a scuffle at the door then he heard someone running away.

Sam heard the demon cross the room and then it slapped Sam so hard his neck jerked back. The demon screamed and Sam knew that it was leaving the woman’s body and was going to try to get into his. Even blindfolded he could feel the darkness pressing down on him, trying to invade his body.

Thrashing, Sam fell out of the chair he was in and then he could feel the demon start to get inside him.

“Sam?” He barely heard Dean over the screaming of the demon in his head.

 _No, don’t,_ Sam was trying to say, but the moment he opened his mouth the attack intensified. The demon was angry, very angry, Sam could tell. He felt heat on his back and his chest that just kept intensifying. It felt like his spine was burning and the flames surged up from his back and wrapped around his chest, over his heart then it expanded and it felt like his entire body was on fire.

Dimly, as if from a distance, he could hear someone chanting. Sam felt the darkness, that he assumed was the demon, trying to escape but Sam somehow held it inside him. He felt as though his insides were turning to molten lava, it hurt, everything hurt, but he held on and then as the chanting reached its peak, he let go. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, but he knew the demon was gone.

Sam’s last thought as he blacked out from the pain was that Dean must have showed up and performed an exorcism.

Coming around slowly, the first thing he was aware of was pain, the second was Dean. Dean was holding him and crying. Crying? Why would Dean be crying? Sam tried to turn his head but it was too hard. It was really quiet other than Dean’s soft sobs. Why was it so quiet? What was missing? Sam took a deep breath in and when he did he realized that is what had been missing, the soft, ever-present background noise of his breathing.

Growing quiet, Dean shifted him in his arms so that Sam could look at him.

“Sammy?”

Sam tried to talk, but he couldn’t, so he just nodded. Then his back slowly started burning again and he whimpered, but this time it was a soothing burn, as odd as that sounded. It flowed over him like an ice flow, leaving cool in its wake. He also felt it flow over Dean, doing something, and then it was gone.

Afterwards, Sam always believed that was the moment everything changed. He knew somehow that Dean would survive his year. They would find a way to save his soul because Sam wasn’t going to let him go.

Trying to move accomplished nothing. Dean gave him a look and Sam stopped trying. “Connor came and got me. I don’t know why but I grabbed the journal. It was . . .” Dean’s voice trailed off. “You were,” he continued after a pause, “screaming and screaming, Sam. I thought you were dying, I thought you were dead, again.” Dean said the last word like his heart was broken.

“Sammy, you weren’t breathing, no heartbeat, and then it was like this,” Dean looked at a loss for words, “this wave of, I don’t know, coldness swept over me and then you were breathing again. Fuck, Sam.” He pushed Sam’s hair out of his face with a gentle touch.

Well, the screaming explained the lack of voice, though he didn’t remember screaming, just pain. Sam nodded slightly and laid a comforting hand on Dean’s knee. ‘Connor?’ he mouthed the boy’s name.

“Fine, he’s fine,” Dean reassured him and then turned as the fae that had been possessed moaned from a nearby corner. Sam nodded his head in the direction of the sound. Dean shook his head.

“I’m okay,” Sam forced out of his abused throat. “Go check on her.” It was barely a whisper, but Sam hoped he got across what he wanted to. Sam had been possessed and had done evil things, things that he remembered doing and still felt like it tainted his soul. The poor fae had done nothing wrong but be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Dean reluctantly let go of Sam and moved over to check on the woman when four armored fae came through the door. They pointed their weapons at Dean, spears of a design that Sam had never seen before, telling him to step away from Lady Deirdre. Dean raised his hands and tried to move back to Sam but they stopped him from that, too.

Then Bridget and Cael swept in and the guards, for that’s what they were, lowered their weapons. Bridget headed for Sam and Dean who were now allowed to be together and Cael moved closer to where Deirdre lay sobbing quietly.

“What happened?”

“She was possessed,” Dean said quietly. “She brought Sam here and the demon in her tried to possess him but Connor came to the door and Sam yelled for him to get help. He ran to me and said Sammy was in trouble. That’s not that surprising when you know him.” Dean shoved Sam with his shoulder.

Sam glared at Dean but since he couldn’t speak, he let Dean continue.

“I ran back to the house and grabbed Dad’s journal -- for some reason I knew I needed it -- and when I got here, she,” Dean pointed at Deirdre, “was collapsed over there and Sam was being possessed. At least, it was trying to possess him.” Dean took a breath and looked at Sam. “The tattoos helped, I think, because even without a devil’s trap the thing remained here long enough for me to send it back to hell.”

Bridget looked at Sam to see if he had anything to offer. Sam put his hand up to his throat and managed to whisper something about screaming. She asked about magic and Sam and Dean both stared at her in confusion.

“Morgaine said she felt something like human magic, but not quite, coming from here.”

Looking at Dean in confusion, Sam tried to figure out what she was talking about. Then he understood. She was talking about the tattoos. Sam touched the newest one on his chest, expecting to still feel some pain but there was no pain. Sam scrabbled with his shirt and lifted it to see his tattoo.

The entire room went silent. Sam looked up and everyone was staring at him. Some people with fear in their eyes, some with hope and then Dean, he was looking at him with love.

“What?” Sam asked his voice rough and breaking. He looked down at his chest again trying to see his tattoo.

Bridget laid her hand over it. “Samuel, we are honored.”

Morgaine pushed her way into the room, past the tall young guards, pausing at Deirdre and speaking with the woman for a second. She had been sobbing since she had regained consciousness and she slowly quieted as Morgaine spoke with her. Then she seemed to fall asleep and the old priestess motioned the guards to take her away.

“She will sleep and, when she wakes, the past few months will seem as if a dream. The demon left her with all of the memories of what she had done.” Morgaine looked at Sam as she spoke as if she knew he too had memories of what a demon had done while in his body. He gave a slight shake of his head, he would keep his memories, and Morgaine gave him a slight nod in return.

Slowly Morgaine made her way to him and Dean. Offering him a potion that healed his throat, he wasn't surprised. “Come, there will be enough talk about this as it is.” She tugged Sam’s shirt down, covering the tattoo. Sam looked at Dean to see if he had any idea what was going on. Dean shrugged.

Bridget surprised him and gave him a small hug. “Thank you, Samuel.” She let go of him, tears in her eyes, and Cael came over and they left together, Sam and Dean both getting a nod of approval from Cael as he led Bridget out. Sam could definitely see the family resemblance now.

Sam and Dean followed Morgaine as she made her way back to their house and she opened the door, looking around as if for traps. Motioning the boys in, she stepped out of the way, hitting Sam on his ass as he walked by. She cackled and told them to get their stuff … leave everything that they didn’t come with and to hurry.

Sam found his clothes in the closet and began to strip as Dean already had. Watching Dean struggle into jeans, Sam moved closer to him and touched his arm.

“Damn it, Sam, she said hurry and she never hurries, so move your ass!” Dean half yelled at him and tossed him one of his shirts.

Backing off, Sam grabbed the shirt and pulled it over his head. It felt scratchy against his skin after a week of silk. Shaking his head, he pulled his jeans on and looked up as Dean was tossing stuff into the pack that Sam had brought. Dad’s journal was the most important; they could leave most everything else.

“Dressed?”

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and put on socks and his hiking boots. He looked at Dean, dressed as he must have been when he left to get doughnuts, black t-shirt, jeans, boots and his jacket. They nodded at one another in silent agreement and Sam picked up the backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Dean left and Sam paused at the door. He and Dean had been happy here, felt accepted. It would never be like that outside of this place.

Sam quietly shut the door behind him, tucking the memories deep within his heart. Morgaine was speaking softly but urgently with Dean and then she poked him as Sam walked into the room. “You boy, you must listen and remember. Whatever happened to you, something changed. You changed. Samuel, you are now immortal, and that gives you a way to save your idiot brother here.” She jabbed her finger into Dean’s side.

"Hey," Dean yelped. "Be careful with the merchandise."

“That deal he made, you could offer more.” Sam looked at Morgaine intently, trying to memorize everything she was saying.

“I could offer them my immortality,” Sam said, suddenly getting it.

She nodded and they both ignored Dean, who was starting to babble angrily. “What can they do with it?” Sam asked.

“Your immortality?”

Sam nodded and she laughed. “Nothing, that’s the beauty of it. Somehow you have been gifted so you can give it away. The thing is, the demons covet it because they know that humans do -- that it is something that humans beg for all the time. It would please them to think that they hurt you in such a way. Also, they know or they suspect what you would become if you were immortal and you lost your brother.” She shared a glance with Sam that told him that she had seen into the darkest most hidden part of his soul and he nodded.

“But how did it happen?” Dean asked, butting in. “And how do you _know_?”

“Sam, lift your shirt,” Morgaine directed him. “That’s how.” She pointed to Sam’s tattoo but it wasn’t, it wasn’t the tattoo he had gotten which hadn’t even been complete. This was the full three dimensional representation, it looked like it anyway, as best as Sam could tell from this angle.

“Dean?”

Dean again had the look of love in his eyes as he looked at Sam’s tattoo, just as he had back at Deirdre’s house. This time he reached out to touch him, to touch it, and Morgaine slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch it; it’ll make it harder for Samuel to give up.”

Dropping his hand, Dean took a step back, abashed. Sam was amazed at how this tiny old woman could just command Dean like that. “Give it up soon, Sam. You were given a gift from the tree, don’t waste it. Now you must go, before one of the others get a message out. There hasn’t been a human marked by the tree in centuries and the last time, let’s say it ended badly. Others would want to keep you here, to kill you. You idiot boys, do you understand me?” She waved her hands at the door. “Go.”

Sam bowed to her and then stood up and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” He grabbed Dean and pulled him out the door. They made it to the edge of the circle of hawthorns without being stopped and a path opened before them. Sam stopped at the opening and looked back, for the first time since he had got there Sam _looked_ at the Tree. It had given him back his brother and for that alone, Sam would ever be grateful and oh lord was it beautiful, filling the sky with its branches.

“Come on, I think it’s time to go,” Dean said, pulling on him. Sam looked at him in surprise. Dean hadn’t been exactly excited to go but then Sam looked at what Dean was looking at. There were fae with weapons coming towards them, quickly. Turning, Sam hurried into the tunnel, followed by Dean. A few yards in, Sam could hear the branches snapping closed behind him and he even thought he heard a scream or two but soon they were emerging into bright sunshine.

Checking out the angle of the sun, Sam figured they had a few hours until it set behind the mountains. Getting the map out, Sam began to show Dean where they needed to go but Dean stopped him.

“Just lead, I’ll follow you.” Sam stared at Dean until Dean gave him a shove to get him moving. Maybe his time with the fae had changed Dean more than he had thought.

Getting back to the abandoned town near dusk, Sam was happy to see that the car was still there.

“You left her out here?” Dean asked, walking around the Impala, running his fingers along her sides.

“It was good for a few days, dude. I took care of it.” Sam got into the passenger’s seat and grabbed his fake forest id and stuck it back in the box that held all that stuff. Dean slid behind the wheel and caressed it.

“You need me to leave you and the car alone?” Sam asked.

Dean patted the dash. “You just ignore him, girl. He’s just jealous.”

Sam snorted and Dean pulled out. They soon found themselves pulling into the local Safeway. Knowing what Dean wanted, Sam walked into the store and fought the urge to run back out. It was so noisy, so crowded, that Sam nearly panicked, he had got used to the quietness, the peacefulness of the fae.

It almost felt like he was in a different world. Grabbing some food and, because he could, he also grabbed some lube. Standing in the checkout line, Sam felt like everyone knew what he wanted it for and he almost just dropped everything and ran again. Except, except Dean needed food, and maybe he would still want the other stuff. Now that they were back here, Sam didn’t know.

Glancing at the receipt, Sam stopped midway out the door, only moving when someone bumped him from behind. Turning, he saw a harassed mom with three kids, smiling in apology for bumping into him. Sam quickly got out of her way. Walking across the parking lot, Sam’s eyes locked onto the Impala. Needing to tell Dean that he had only been gone a day, he didn’t hear or see the truck that hit him but Dean did.

Sam was on the ground, trying to figure out what had happened, when Dean was suddenly there. Some guy was babbling but Sam didn’t listen. “Help me to the car,” Sam told Dean. “And get the food.” Sam was oddly happy that the lube hadn’t managed to roll away and was still in the bag when he checked it.

The guy and Dean gathered the chips, apples, and candy that Sam had bought and then Dean helped him to the car. Going back to talk to the guy, Dean returned, shoving some money into his pockets.

Sam had been hurting but he was already starting to feel better. Convincing Dean he didn’t need to be poked and prodded by a doctor, Sam talked him into going back to the motel they had been staying at.

Pulling into the parking lot, Sam put his hand on Dean’s arm as he was getting out. “The room is still ours.” Dean stared at him with a question in his eyes. “Dude, it’s the day I left.” He dug in the duffle until he pulled out the room key and handed it to Dean.

Dean opened the door and then came back to help Sam inside. The odd thing was that Sam already felt as good as new. Dean seemed to be having trouble wrapping his brain around the fact that he had been gone a month, Sam for more than a week and yet, even though Sam had said how little time had passed, maybe he didn’t believe him. Sam had trouble believing it.

Stretching as he entered the room, he felt several vertebrae pop into place. Being immortal had its bonuses it seemed. His shirt had ridden up as he stretched and Dean made a noise as Sam moved to tug it back down. Sam looked up at his brother and was relieved when he saw desire in Dean’s eyes.

It wasn’t something that only happened _there_ , which was what Sam had been afraid of. Sam felt his desire start in the pit of his stomach and he felt his cock grow hard at the same time his nipples tightened. He was surprised he could even think with all the blood that was flowing to other parts of his body.

Sam walked over to Dean and stood there, desire in his eyes, looking at his brother.

“Sam?” Dean asked and Sam didn’t move, hardly blinked. He leaned in a bit and smelled Dean, running his nose close to Dean’s skin.

Surprisingly, Sam understood what he was smelling. Dean was nervous and excited and worried. Opening his eyes again, he caught Dean’s gaze.

Reaching out, Dean hesitantly ran his hand up Sam’s side, checking for broken bones and bruises, Sam guessed.

“I’m good,” Sam said and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. “See?” Sam turned. There wasn’t a mark on him, except for his tattoos. Nothing. Even his old scars were gone.

Sam advanced on Dean until he had him pressed up against the wall. Dean’s smell was driving him wild. Sam sniffed again.

“Got a cold there, Sammy?” Dean tried to joke but Sam just ignored his words and settled for what Dean’s body was telling him. He pressed up against Dean, and he could feel the desire running through Dean’s veins.

Sam licked the side of Dean’s neck and he whimpered. Whispering to Dean, Sam told him exactly what he was going to do to Dean, slowly, step by step and Dean moaned. Leaning in, Sam captured his mouth, sliding his tongue against Dean’s. Yes! This is what he wanted, what he needed.

Dean ran his hands up Sam’s back and it was Sam’s turn to moan as Dean pulled him closer, their hard cocks rubbing between layers of clothes. Sam pulled at Dean’s shirt until he could push it up. Bending down, he licked at Dean’s nipples and felt the already hard nubs tighten more under his tongue.

Pushing Sam off of him, Dean tried to move away. “Get off, you big idiot.”

Backing off, Sam moved half way across the room and stood there panting, the smell of Dean filling his nose, the taste of him filling his mouth. He made himself look away from Dean. It wasn’t easy and, once he’d done it, it hurt and made his stomach roll. What the hell was wrong with him?

He needed Dean. He could feel it like ants under his skin. Sam had thought that Dean wanted him too. With his eyes closed, he took another deep breath in. Dean was closer but Sam could smell fear on him. Sam stomped on his desire.

“Sam?” Dean was now close enough to touch and Sam clenched and unclenched his hands, trying not to reach out and pull Dean to him. “Sammy?” Dean said quietly and Sam could feel the heat of Dean’s hand as he moved it towards Sam’s face.

Sam opened his eyes and looked into Dean’s. He stood right in front of Sam and Sam felt a tear roll down his face. He wanted so much, he needed so much and if Dean didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t do anything, somewhere inside Sam thought he just might die. It hurt not to touch him. Dean reached up to wipe the tear from his face and Sam moved back.

“Don’t . . . not unless . . . I can’t . . . I need . . .” Sam babbled and Dean calmly moved closer and reached out again.

“Shhh . . . it’s okay,” Dean said as he wiped away another tear. “You can have what you need.”

Sam’s eyes were luminous as gem stones. “But --”

“You think too much sometimes.” Dean gave him a small push and stepped back to unbutton his jeans. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he gave Sam a small smile as he pushed them down. Sam heard, rather than saw, Dean’s weapons hitting the floor with a muted thunk because he was busy with his own jeans, pushing them down and then realizing that he hadn’t taken his boots off. Sam sat and tried to force the boot and the pant leg off at the same time.

Dean chuckled and slid to the floor in front of him. He pushed up the jeans and slid Sam’s boots off one foot at a time. Then Dean tugged on the pants until they were off and piled on the floor on top of his weapons. Sliding his hand up Sam’s calves and then up across his thigh, Dean soon had him moaning.

Lying back on the bed, Sam had his legs over the edge and his feet still on the floor. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Dean’s fingers running across his skin. They left trails of fire in their wake. Dean’s hand brushed across his underwear-clad cock and Sam’s eyes flew open. He hissed and lifted up to look at Dean.

Dean was moving, crawling between his legs and leaning over Sam. Sam dug his fingers into the covers on the bed. _Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean,_ he chanted inside his head as Dean licked up his stomach. Sam could feel everywhere Dean was touching him; his thighs between Sam’s, the warmth and the rough hairs brushing. Dean’s stomach was touching Sam’s as he slid up, licking Sam’s nipples. Dean’s fingers were touching Sam’s arms where they rested against the mattress. Dean’s hard cock was pressing against his, separated by two thin pieces of material. He soaked in every touch, every movement.

Then Dean leaned over him and whispered in his ear, telling him that he wanted Sam to do all the things he had said he was going to. It was that, that broke Sam’s control. Lifting his hands, he held Dean’s head and then proceeded to kiss him, running his tongue over Dean’s lips. Dean opened his mouth and kissed him back and Sam almost fainted as his senses overwhelmed him.

A deep rumble started somewhere in his chest and Dean said, “Sammy?” just as Sam hooked his leg around Dean and flipped him over. Sam rubbed against Dean.

“You smell so good,” Sam said, his voice low. “I want to fuck you.”

“Oh god, Sam,” Dean said as Sam worked his way down his body. Lifting his ass, he let Sam slide his underwear off. Sam wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s cock and smiled as it jumped in his hand. Sam was now kneeling at the edge of the bed between Dean’s legs and he lowered his head and licked Dean’s cock. Tasting the burst of tangy flavors that was Dean, Sam groaned and sucked Dean all the way down. When his nose was buried in the curls of Dean’s pubic hair and Dean’s cock was buried down his throat Sam’s olfactory sense was bombarded by Dean; his sweat, his pre-come, the musky smell that was just Dean. It drove Sam wild. His throat, which seemed to have lost its gag reflex, spasmed around Dean’s cock and his own grew even harder.

Dean whimpered and so did Sam. Snagging the lube off of the floor where it had rolled conveniently near his leg, Sam poured some on his hand and slicked up his fingers. Sucking on the head of Dean’s cock, Sam slowly circled his hole, rubbing it, getting it slick before he slowly pushed one finger in.

Sucking on Dean’s cock, Sam copied the motion with his finger, in and out, as he moved up and down on Dean’s dick. Soon Dean was moaning and begging for more and Sam slicked up a second finger and pushed it slowly with the first. Dean’s ass clenched around his fingers and Sam felt his cock weep in anticipation. Sam didn’t want to hurt Dean anymore than Dean had wanted to hurt Sam so Sam took his time and prepped Dean carefully, until Dean was begging for more.

Sam slicked up his cock and positioned it at Dean’s hole, his hands were shaking he wanted this so much. Slowly he started to push in past the first ring of tight muscles and then through the inner one. He thought he might die right now because this was as close to heaven as he had ever come. “Dean,” he sighed as he slid up to the hilt in his brother.

“Sammy, come on, fuck me,” Dean pleaded.

Shaking his head, Sam slowly withdrew and then pushed back inside. “I’m gonna make love to you, Dean.”

“Whatever,” Dean said, “you girl. Just do it.” He tightened his asshole around Sam’s cock and Sam almost came.

Leaning over his brother, Sam took a deep breath and was again overwhelmed by everything. He moved slowly, determined to do this his way, but Dean was just as determined to have Sam fucking hard. Dean cocked his hips and making encouraging moaning noises got Sam to lose control. Speeding up, he was soon pounding into his brother’s ass, telling him how tight he was, how much he loved it. How, if he could, he would do this forever.

Dean came and the smell of it drove Sam a bit mad. Reaching down, he swirled his fingers through Dean’s come that splattered Dean’s stomach and chest and brought them up to his mouth. Sam came, hard and hot in Dean’s tight hole and again he felt the tattoos burning and then it was as if fire was coming out his dick.

Dean yelled and Sam pulled out but he had already come.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean was squirming and Sam sat up and looked at him, worry in his eyes. “Dude, what the hell was that?”

Sam gave a little shrug. “Magic?” He ran his hand down Dean’s arm and he stilled. “You okay?” Sam was concerned.

Dean looked at Sam and then slowly nodded. “That was weird.” He slowly pushed himself up and Sam let go. Dean was off the bed and running for the bathroom before Sam could say anything.

Quickly, Sam followed Dean and stopped in the doorway as Dean retched into the toilet and then Sam noticed the blood. Oh lord, he had hurt Dean. Blood and come dribbled out of Dean’s ass and he threw up again and Sam moved forward to support his brother.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam babbled and as soon as he touched him, Dean stopped retching.

“What?” Dean asked, as if he finally noticed what Sam was saying.

“You’re bleeding, I’m sorry.”

Dean put his fingers back and gently touched his ass. Pulling them away, he looked at them. “It’s fine.” He showed Sam his pinkish fingers and Sam looked at them in disbelief. Stepping back, he let go of Dean, who started throwing up again. Nobody ever accused Sam of being stupid, except Dean of course. Sam put his hand back on Dean and he stopped throwing up again.

“Dude, this is not cool,” Dean moaned as Sam got him up and put him in the shower, keeping at least one hand on him all the time.

“Tell me about it,” Sam said and then, after getting in with Dean, he started the shower. Sam could smell the dried come and blood and vomit, so he grabbed the soap and began to wash Dean, who protested he could do it himself but he let Sam do it. Getting Dean and himself clean, Sam shut the water off and managed to get Dean out. Brushing teeth was quite the exercise until Sam realized that his skin just needed to be touching Dean’s to keep him from getting sick. So with his hip touching Dean’s side, they finished getting clean and then, taking his hand, Sam led him to bed.

Setting his internal alarm for around eleven that night, Sam curled around Dean and they both fell asleep. Sam woke up slowly, stretching and unconsciously keeping a hand on Dean. One minute Dean was sleeping, the next he was awake and staring at Sam, confusion in his eyes that changed to relief. Pulling Sam back down to him, Dean kissed him. Sam gave a relieved sigh and slowly moved back.

Deciding wordlessly that it was time that they left, they were trying to get dressed. All Sam knew is that as long as he kept one hand touching Dean he wasn’t sick. If Sam let go. . .Dean was bent over throwing up again. Another time, another place and Sam would have found it very funny but, right now all he could do was feel sorry for Dean. Getting up, they got dressed in a comedy of errors as Sam never stopped touching Dean somewhere. Sam buttoned his jeans up with his arm wrapped around Dean’s and then placing his fingers on Dean’s neck, he watched as Dean pulled his pants up.

Gathering what they needed to deal with the Crossroads Demon, Sam and Dean headed out about twenty minutes to midnight. Sam drove, his hand threaded with Dean’s, until they reached a crossroads in the backwoods, surprisingly not far from the main road. Sam buried his box and waited, Dean behind him.

“Tisk tisk,” A woman’s voice said and Sam looked up and saw her. “Sammy and Dean? What a surprise.” She sounded like she wasn’t surprised at all. “And you, Sammy. You’ve gone and got yourself immortal. Too bad you couldn’t do the same for your brother.”

Sam’s chin came up but he didn’t say anything.

“What, cat got your tongue? Or maybe,” she looked closely at him, “maybe your brother did.”

“I want to make a deal,” Sam said and the demon’s demeanor changed, becoming less flirty and more serious.

“You? You can’t offer anything anymore.” Then she stopped and seemed to consider something. “Unless, you want to offer up that immortality of yours?”

Sam tried very hard to look like he had to consider her offer. “Dean’s soul for my immortality?” He also tried to sound skeptical. Dean pushed him from behind and Sam stumbled a bit. The demon got her first good look at Dean and she broke out in laughter.

She didn’t stop for several minutes, during which Dean shoved him again and Sam fidgeted. Finally she wound down and, grinning like a cat, she said, “Deal?”

Pulling her close, Sam leaned down to kiss her. “Deal.”

Feeling drained after the kiss was over, Sam was pushed back into Dean. “Hope you _boys_ have fun,” she said and then disappeared.

Turning to look at Dean, he tried to figure out what had just happened. Dean smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

Well, what could he say to that? Sam pulled him close and whispered into his hair, “You’re welcome, now let’s get back to bed.”

Realizing they didn’t need to keep on touching, Sam held on to Dean’s hand anyway. He would hold onto his brother for as long as he could.

~Fin~


End file.
